


The Hand That Holds the Chain

by AngeliaDark



Series: The Swapfell Script [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Swapfell, Fontcest, M/M, Master/Pet, Sequel, Training, undertale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:18:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8571196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeliaDark/pseuds/AngeliaDark
Summary: Sequel/Addition to Flipping the Script.Over the years, the citizens of the Underground have learned to fear the Skeleton brothers, for one reason or the other.  A poignant question on everyone's mind, however, remained: Which was more dangerous?  The attack dog, or his master?





	1. Chapter 1

Okay, so, I was gonna leave [Flipping the Script](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6702073/chapters/15328225) open-ended for the most part, and then, LITERALLY, one piece of art gave me all the inspiration for this story:  [CHECK THIS SHIT OUT](http://aleii-mubarak9.tumblr.com/post/151875496547/papyrus-blocks-the-way) by aleii-mubarak9 on tumblr.  Thanks a bunch, you magnificent bastard.

* * *

* * *

 

 

It would have been absolutely foolish if Sans thought for one moment that things would be easy for the future of himself and Papyrus.

And so it was a good thing that Sans was done being a fool.

If it came to Papyrus, it was being taken seriously, and 95% of Sans's life revolved around creating this new life of his. Only the hours he worked in the physics labs and his one-on-one training with Alphys were the other 5% that Papyrus had little to do with.

Even then, he loathed it.

Sans loathed every moment he was away from his little brother, and even the—many—monitors he had in the engineering lab to keep an eye on things and Papyrus on standby in the sidelines of training were hardly enough to assuage his paranoia. Only when Papryus was physically beside him or within spitting distance was Sans calm and at ease.

Every moment Sans was too far away to feel Papyrus's aura, every second Papyrus was not within sight, Sans would be bombarded with the visions of what he had seen being done to his brother, would hear Papyrus screaming for it to end, for his Lord, for SANS.

And Sans LOATHED. IT.

It made him work himself to the marrow to pick himself up when he was on the brink of collapsing during training, made his mind work faster thinking of new attacks, new strategies, and ways to keep himself—and Papyrus—safe and untouchable.

It was funny, he thought to himself as he laid back in bed recovering after a session that nearly had him falling down, that Papyrus had been in this very same predicament some years ago. Pushed to the absolute limit due to some convoluted thought process that he had to be the best, the GREATEST...

...and having his sibling at his bedside worried sick.

Unlike himself, who had fretted over Papyrus with indignation and anger, Papyrus knelt by the bedside like a dog, his hand resting over Sans's, his golden-orange eyelights glimmering wetly with nothing but concern and fear. But also unlike Sans, he said nothing.

Sans woke up to that kicked-puppy look, knowing that Papyrus wouldn't speak until told to. A part of him didn't want to hear it; his own words being thrown back at him of being too reckless, pushing himself too far, worrying his brother too much; but he owed Papyrus that much after his own verbal assault years ago.

He lifted his hand from Papyrus's, resting it on his brother's skull. “...tell me what you're thinking,” he said, phrasing it as a demand rather than a request, knowing that Papyrus would not deny him either but not wanting his brother to censor himself.

Papyrus's eyelights flickered as he bowed his head, as he often did when he spoke. “...I am feeling like I will be alone again,” he replied frankly. “Because....m'Lord will not let me protect him.”

Sans's jaw tightened, his free hand clenching into his duvet. “...you should not be protecting me,” he replied, the terseness in his voice not for his brother, but for himself. “I am your older brother. I am your Lord. It is I who should be protecting YOU.”

“You DO protect me!” Papyrus sniffled. “But why can't I protect you TOO?” He let out a soft sob. “I don't want to lose m'Lord! I can't.....I CAN'T...!”

“Shhhh...” Sans murmured, petting Papyrus's skull lightly. “Don't upset yourself, pet. Your Lord will not fall down that easily.” He gave Papyrus a soft smile before wincing as he forced his body to scoot back to the other end of the bed. “Come here.” He extended his arm, waiting for Papyrus to crawl up on the bed, and curled it around Papyrus's shaking shoulders, pulling his brother closer. “No more talk of that. You haven't been resting, and we're going to fix that. You are no good to me or yourself exhausted, understood?”

Papyrus nodded, tucking his face into the crook of Sans's neck as he relaxed against his brother and allowed himself to be petted into sleep.

As he slept, Sans thought.

There had to be a way around this as well.

There HAD to be.

But how?

* * *

 

“Well you can start by cutting the one-man wrecking crew crap and accepting some help.”

Sans scowled as Alphys stood over him with crossed arms and a critical glower. He huffed, standing up from the snow and brushing his pants off. “Isn't that why I'm HERE?” he demanded. “I'm not built for fighting and I have a one HP handicap, but I'm HERE, aren't I?”

Alphys growled. “That's the POINT, genius,” she retorted. “You have spunk and potential, but you don't use a sword to do a shield's job. It's a tough truth, but it's needed to be heard: you. Need. HELP.” She sat back on a rock, leaning her axe against it. “Not every warrior works solo. Dogamy and Dogaressa work best in a pair. The Hotland Guardsmen Abbot and Costello work best together. And why?”

“Because they're both couples?”

“Well what the hell would you call yourself and Papyrus then?”

Sans frowned, glancing over by the fence where Papyrus was sitting and quietly playing with a puzzle cube, though his posture was clearly in 'defense' mode, as his battle training always put him in when he was around anyone in the Guard. He bit back a sigh, turning back to Alphys. “...look, the whole reason I'm doin' this is so he doesn't HAVE to,” he said softly enough so Papyrus wouldn't hear.

Alphys snorted loudly. “In case it's already escaped your memory, HE'S the one who used to be Captain of the Royal Guard,” she replied. “The Captain, the Lance of Asgore, Son of Gaster, and someone who'd have his own stained glass window in the Great Hall, had it not been for that bullshit scandal.” She leaned back, her expression bitter, though not at the subject but rather the situation.

“...Sans, he doesn't NEED protection. He has literally everything he needs, but that does no good if he's not ordered by you to do it. You could order him to kill me, right here right now, and he'd do it in an instant, and you know it. So why are you so scared of him just DOING it?”

Sans rubbed his eye sockets, flopping back in the snow. “Fuck......I dunno,” he muttered. “I don't want him to feel like he HAS to...an' you saw what happens when he uses his own free will...a Guard lost an arm in the Judgement Hall, an' he was ready to lodge a few bones down Toriel's throat.”

Alphys nodded penseively. “...true,” she said, chewing her lip for a moment. “...FAR be it from me to make suggestions in your...*ahem*...OTHER life...but you ever thought of.....well.....TRAINING him?”

Sans frowned. “...explain,” he said.

“Well,” Alphys went on, “he's already got the skills, just no filter on when or how to USE them anymore. Why not do something with that?” She gave Papyrus a critical look. “You're quick and critical, and he'll follow your commands on the turn of a G. And as protective of you are him, you can't be so blind as to not see he's got your back in every situation. Sans, in the Judgement Hall, he broke through the scene to stand up to Toriel for you. That speaks VOLUMES.”

Sans sighed. “...it does,” he concurred. “But it also means he's unpredictable when he's pushed. For something like COMBAT to work....that'll just add more onto what I'm already piling on him.”

“Then make it work,” Alphys said. “Somehow, some way. You're still under probation for the year until Toriel gets off your ass, so showing that you're willing to make it work will make things go that much more smoothly.” She stood up, taking her axe in her hand again. “You've already done wonders for him, considering the state I saw before. You can do this too. Now stand up and be on guard, runt, we're running another practice go.”

Sans bit back a groan, forcing himself to stand despite his joints protesting. He stood up straight and braced himself for more dodging and blocking, but Alphys remained still, her eye flicking between him and Papyrus.

“...call Papyrus over. I wanna try something.”

Sans scowled, his hands clenching into fists. “....Papyrus!” he barked, and his brother immediately rushed over, head bowed submissively. Sans turned back to Alphys. “Alright now what?”

Alphys swung at Sans without warning, her axe less than eight inches from nailing Sans in the skull, before it was blocked by a bone construct in the vagueness of a spear, the construct close enough to Sans's face that he could practically taste the magic it was created from.

Papyrus's eyelights blazed, gnashing his teeth at Alphys as he lurched forward and began stabbing at her in earnest, only his blind rage and her expecting this reaction keeping her from getting hit.

Sans gauged the situation for only a second before he rushed over, grabbing Papyrus by the collar and twisting it hard, pulling Papyrus to the snow. “CEASE AND DESIST!” he snapped, seeing Papyrus's rage draining quickly. “I did not order you to attack, did I? NO!” He shoved Papyrus's face into the ice, mostly as a means to literally cool off his seething magic. “When I want you to attack, I will TELL you to! Do you understand me?!”

Papyrus whimpered like a wounded dog beast, nodding quietly before Sans let him go.

“If you're going to act like a rabid dog beast, you can lie there on the ground like one until my business is finished!” he said, waiting until Papyrus's aura was calm and subservient before turning back to Alphys, who returned a ' _told you so_ ' look to him.

He sighed, rubbing the crack above his eye socket that had become a focal point to his many migraines over the past few months.

He had a lot of work to do.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Alphys had been onto something with the whole 'training' thing, Sans though later. He had already trained Papyrus to only respond to his trigger word when HE said it, had Papyrus obeying his verbal commands, and almost had him functioning like a normal Monster when stress levels were down.

But training him to respond in combat? Whole different story.

Despite Sans's best efforts, Papyrus still had violent responses to certain stimuli when stress levels were high, and if Sans wasn't paying attention, Papyrus would lash out and seriously hurt someone for what could have likely been an unfortunate mistake.

Simply commanding Papyrus to not attack at ALL would be a mistake. Papyrus needed an outlet to express his rage, and like HELL Sans was going to risk Papyrus being alone and encountering enemies without permission to fight back. Sans was not a fan of repeating mistakes, and he'd be damned if he'd repeat his worst.

As it stood, Papyrus's reasoning for what constituted a proper threat was nonexistent. Sans would need to work on that first and foremost. Secondly would be figuring out how to let Papyrus fight, and what level of deadliness would be allowed. Thirdly, cooperation.

The life he now had with Papyrus constituted a certain routine with rules that were put in place for Papyrus's safety, as well as everyone else's. There couldn't be a lot of alterations between 'home' rules and 'battle' rules, or who knew what would happen?

What was more, Sans wanted to hold onto hope that one day, his brother would be able to have some modicum of self-control and self-awareness without him having to spell everything out for him. While he loved the idea of Papyrus being his beloved pet, obedient slave, he didn't want Papyrus's mind to be trapped in such a state. His little brother needed guidance and protection, but Sans wanted Papyrus to LIVE.

Sans was the one who started this entire thing between them. He was the one who upped the ante, took a gamble, and lost spectacularly, almost losing his brother entirely. And by the gods that still had mercy, he was going to do what he could to fix it.

And the first step to that was giving Papyrus his fangs back.

* * *

 

Come to find, it was quite literally.

Alphys made mention that having such an open gap in Papyrus's skull would keep getting worse if there wasn't a dam to fix it. She gave Sans the name of someone who could probably fill most of the gap up, and maybe throw in a false tooth to go with it. Missing teeth were apparently common in the Guard, and the new trend was gold replacements.

It seemed a bit frivolous to Sans; why waste some G by melting them down into TEETH? He warmed up to the idea, however, when he was keeping a stern eye on the medic who was filling in Papyrus's maxilla gap, thinking that it would be something of showmanship for Papyrus. He certainly thought every bit of Papyrus was worth more than its weight in gold, so why not a small bit?

Papyrus woke up from his anesthesia-induced nap, a shiny gold fang the same size as the other that was sharpened on the right, and his eyelights shone just as bright as he touched at it in fascination. Only his Lord would have permitted such a frivolous accessory, and it was so wonderful to have something fill that gap.

It quickly grew on Sans, who was just happy to see his brother mostly whole again, the large maxilla crack scar excluded of course. But he made it clear that Papyrus was to not allow harm to come to himself, if at all possible. Not only was that fang expensive, but it was now a part of him, and Sans made sure that Papyrus KNEW that allowing harm to come to himself from someone who MEANT him harm was forbidden.

Despite their new life, Sans didn't have very many rules, but the few he DID have were to be followed no matter what. The first rule was one that Sans put in place the day Papyrus had been shattered.

 _“A_ _side from going directly with my orders, you will not obey a single thing ANYONE tells you to do. And if anyone tries to force you to, you will kill them without hesitation.”_

Lucky for EVERYONE in the Underground, nobody had really attempted that yet, mostly for that second part. Sans knew that Papyrus's killing instinct was still there, coiled and awaiting a command to use it, but Lord's orders came first. Sans made SURE of it.

Sans didn't want Papyrus to get into trouble for misinterpreting someone's actions as 'going against Lord's orders', and knew that establishing a working will and awareness was important. That had to be done before ANY form of combat they would have together.

So he took a night off to think about it. He thought about what he could do to give Papyrus free reign of himself, mostly as a fail safe. Should Sans—gods forbid—dust in a fight, he would want Papyrus to fight on, not stand in place waiting for an order that would never come. In a REAL fight, Sans would need Papyrus to be receptive to commands, but with enough free will to adjust to what the battle would entail.

It took several hours before Sans came up with the answer.

Safewords.

Even now, Papyrus's distress would skyrocket when 'Reset' was spoken, but until Sans commanded him back into the 'game', Papyrus's mind was free and open; albeit it was like throwing a child into open water, but it was still open.

Metaphorically speaking, it would be unhooking the leash from Papyrus and letting the dog beast loose. But given Papyrus's previous reactions when the safeword was spoken during a stressful moment, it had to be a last resort. Sans wasn't going to risk his brother's mind falling apart more than it already was from an irresponsible decision.

Papyrus now needed another set of training to work with, one that had to differ completely from the bedroom, or in public. There were new commands, new ordinances, new EVERYTHING that had to be done.

Sans groaned just THINKING about it, rubbing his exhausted eye sockets as he looked across the room from the kitchen table to Papyrus, who was sitting on the floor watching television. Papyrus was out of his scene, this time with much more ease than there had been before, since he was multitasking with watching television, doing a crossword puzzle, AND smoking at the same time, something Sans personally considered a small win.

It shouldn't HAVE to be, he often thought bitterly. Papyrus was strong and smart, and multitasking shouldn't be a big deal when he was by himself. Sans still prayed for the day Papyrus could walk about on his own, go work in Undyne's engineering lab by himself, and stand up for himself against someone's disgusting commentary of his scandal. He awaited the day when he could revoke legal ownership over his brother and make him feel like a PERSON again.

He sighed heavily, resting his head on his hand and continued to watch Papyrus, who suddenly put his crossword down and turned to Sans, his eyelights flickering slightly. Papyrus's expression was neutral for a moment before he gave Sans a smile, his eyelights shining brightly before he turned back to his puzzle and began writing in answers.

Sans lifted his head slightly; that was.....peculiar. When out of a scene like that, Papyrus didn't acknowledge anyone who didn't acknowledge him first. Sans pondered for a moment before getting the idea that Papyrus's awareness was expanding beyond his internal thinking. Nothing short of Sans speaking a command shook him out of his zone, but now somehow a little sigh DID?

Papyrus had acknowledged a reaction from someone and had provided an empathetic response without any prompting. And it made Sans feel....hopeful.

Sans smiled, standing and walking over to Papyrus before leaning down and kissing his brother's skull. “...I'm making dinner,” he said. “Do you want meatball soup, or ravioli?”

Generally, a response to that would be 'whatever m'Lord desires' without hesitation. Instead, Papyrus paused in thought for several long moments before responding, “Either one is fine with me, m'Lord.”

Sans beamed; Papyrus referring the question as HIS answer instead of SANS'S was quite a boon indeed. He petted Papyrus's skull happily before turning back to the kitchen. “Ravioli then,” he said. “It'll be ready in a half-hour, Papyrus. Make sure you're clean for dinner.”

He watched Papyrus nod and finish up the crossword before methodically tidy up the ashtray, turn off the television, and gather everything up before heading upstairs. Sans watched everything, absently missing the times when the television would be left on, or the crossword book be left on the floor. But Papyrus knew that Sans preferred things extra clean around the house now, and strove to keep that cleanliness.

But Sans didn't dwell on that. Instead, he focused on the fact that Papyrus—the Papyrus not under the hell of his Lord—was slowly emerging from his trauma shell, and was doing things and reacting to things, and THINKING for himself.

It certainly made the upcoming work ahead of them much easier.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay, but I had a Christmas gift fic to finish, but now we're back! Also, a big shout-out to xladymalice on tumblr, whose beautiful Swapfell work provides a rush of inspiration for this!

Seriously tho, check out [xladymalice's cool stuff on tumblr](http://xladymalice.tumblr.com/). 

 

* * *

 

“Y'know, YOU could stand to have some upgrades yourself, bonehead.”

Sans huffed, adjusting the straps that held his homemade armor together on his outfit. “Right, whatever,” he replied. “Not my fault idiots need to be beaten before they know I'm actually a threat.”

Alphys rolled her eye, sitting back on a bench. “That's just the POINT,” she shot back. “In the Guard, first impression are everything. And that first impression should be, 'fuck with me and you're dead where you stand'. I mean, Papyrus didn't need that much more to work with. He's seven feet tall and his armor made him look even bigger. But he still got some work done.”

Sans gave up trying to fix the strap and just let the whole shoulder armor drop. “So, what?” he demanded. “You want me to 'get work done'?”

“Yes.”

Sans scowled. “Ridiculous,” he grumbled, already in a bad mood since the shoulder armor would take some work to be latched back onto his shirt, which was already starting to go threadbare despite his upkeep. In fact, his whole outfit needed a rehash. He was starting to feel less like a Lord and more like some asshole who went dumpster diving. He gave up on the shoulder armor and let it drop, sitting back on the ground with an annoyed huff.

Alphys watched his demeanor with a critical eye, her fingers drumming the handle of her axe for a moment before leaning forward. “If you're feeling ancy, I...may have a job for you already.”

Sans looked up, his eyelights constricting slightly. “A job?” he parroted back. “What kind of job?”

Alphys's tail swished in the snow almost anxiously. “I don't think I have to tell you about the fuckery that goes on the Capitol,” she said quietly, as though someone might be listening. “And it's the kind of stuff the Guard normally can't be seen dealing with. The Capitol's already on the border of anarchy without them needing a reason to give the Guard shit for stooping to their level.”

Sans frowned. “What's your point?”

“Point is, if you want to get paid for doing something off the books, here's your chance.” She paused. “You get pardoned for anything you do to get the job done, and the pay is definitely worth it.” She pulled a small notepad from her belt pouch and jotted down a G number, handing it over to him. Sans took it, looking it over with a critical eyelight.

“You're serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

Sans leaned back, staring up at the 'sky' for a few moments to mull it over. This was generous; ENTIRELY too generous. He absently wondered if it was a joke or a trick, but considering the nature of the work and the threat that came with it...it was suitable.

“........alright,” he said. “I'm in.”

“ _'I'M'_ in?” Alphys repeated, arching a brow. Sans's eyelights flicked in the direction of Papyrus, who was mumbling to himself over a Sudoku puzzle.

“....WE'RE in.”

* * *

 

Sans HATED the Capitol.

Overcrowded, overworked, too many Monsters in his personal space, and Papyrus's safety all mucked together in a cloud of stress, which didn't make this job any easier.

Alphys had texed him the job from one of Undyne's untraceable numbers to avoid any official standing with the Royal Guard; there was a counterfeit operation going on where Monsters were making pyrite G and using them to rip off Monsters, especially those working in dangerous or demeaning jobs. While the Guard would normally handle this, new operations kept springing up, and Queen Toriel had made mention to Alphys during a Guard meeting that she wanted it 'permanently taken care of'.

In other words, this was less of a bounty mission and more of a permission to slaughter.

Sans's critical eyelights swept the streets and stalls, seeing Monsters of lower class working through the abuse the higher-up Monsters gave them, his jaw tightening as he thought about his own prior position in the labs. He thought about being overworked, bullied, and abused, all for the salary of a mere research assistant because of shoddy management on Toriel's part. For these Monsters to be working WORSE jobs than that for—probably—fake G in payment...

He forced himself to take a deep calming breath, glancing back at Papyrus to make sure he wasn't being overwhelmed. On the contrary, the taller Skeleton seemed to be just fine, walking a pace and a half behind Sans with his hands in his jacket pockets and hood up, concealing much of his Skeletal frame.

Likewise, Sans was wearing an old hoodie that had belonged to Papyrus, the thing nearly swallowing him, but keeping his breed out of sight; although he had diplomatic immunity in this, he still didn't want to grab attention and get anyone who didn't need to be involved pulled into this.

He reached out and pulled at Papyrus's arm, steering them both to a food stall and sitting at the bar, ordering up something to drink as he kept a close eyelight out on the stall next to theirs.

There was definite shady shit going on there; it seemed that the 'customers' were giving more to the proprietors than vice-versa, and it looked to be packages rather than just Gs. It was definitely worth the look-see.

Sans downed his drink, letting out a slow, steady breath before nudging Papyrus's arm to let him know to keep silent and follow. He made sure the area was clearer before sliding off the stool and slipping to the next stall, helping himself to the panel that separated the bar from the sitting area, getting the attention of the Monster managing it.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?!” the Monster demanded. “You can't be back here!”

Sans flicked his eyelight to the small crate of similar packages that looked nothing like what the stall was supposedly selling. “Looks like I already am,” he said, flicking his hand out and grasping the Monster's soul by a Blue hold, tossing him behind the curtain separating the front from the back room before following. He held the Monster back against the wall before he could counter, motioning for Papyrus to follow as he walked over and knelt down, his eyelights glowing brightly.

“Now then,” he said genially, his grin widening. “I can tell just by looking at you that you're nowhere NEAR the brains of this counterfeiting operation here. So why don't you just make this easier on yourself and tell us where the HQ is, or I'll start dusting your body parts one at a time. And trust me, they will be parts you will want to keep.”

The Monster thrashed under the Blue hold, snarling. “I ain't telling you SHIT!” he spat. “You got NO authority on me!” Sans only grinned, reaching into his pocket and taking out the small slip of Royal documentation with the Royal Seal on it, relishing in the Monster's simmered-down bravado.

“THIS says I do,” he replied, his eyelights glowing and illuminating his skull. “And even if it didn't, I'd say our positions here give a big clue as to who has the upper hand here.”

The Monster flicked his sights between Sans and Papyrus, who was standing by almost patiently, jerking harder under the Blue hold. “What, is this supposed to be some kind of regaining of honor for the disgraced whore?” he hissed, baring his teeth at Sans. “Tell ya what, I'll escort you right to the big man in charge if you let me have a round at him, free of charge.”

There was a long beat of silence before Sans took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly, his eyelights sparking in his eye sockets.

“Oh you poor, stupid little PIECE OF SHIT.” He pushed more weight down on the Blue soul before rearing his fist back and punching the Monster in the throat hard enough so that he couldn't even let out so much as a squeak of pain. “I was GONNA maybe let you go free with some of your limbs intact.” He punched the Monster again, this time right in his mouth. “I MIGHT have even given you some Gs for the trouble.”

He leaned back, grabbing the Monster by the front of the shirt to lift him up while his Blue hold kept the Monster's limbs heavy and weighed down. “But instead, you had to flip the ONE SWITCH that guaranteed your dust coming home with me on my clothes.”

The Monster wheezed through his nearly-crushed windpipe, though Sans paid it no heed as he snapped his fingers and gestured downward sharply with his free hand, not even having to look to know that Papyrus heeled immediately, kneeling down on both knees at his Lord's command.

“Listen here, you pissant lowlife FUCK,” Sans hissed, blindly reaching over and grabbing Papyrus's collar, jerking it up to be shown. “You. Do not even THINK. Of touching someone else's property. ESPECIALLY. MINE.” He shoved his hand forward, pinning the Monster to the wall before reclining back in Papyrus's lap almost lazily.

“You know, we were never really given a time frame of which we had to finish this job, Papyrus,” he said conversationally. “So we have plenty of time to make him talk.” He flicked his finger out, magicking the 'CLOSED' sign out to the front. “So give me some ideas of how he should be punished for daring to even CONTEMPLATE touching my property.”

Papyrus let out a low, deep purr, more than happy for the closeness of his Lord and the declaration of belonging. “I think picking his scales off one by one might work, m'Lord,” he said. “And then stripping off the flesh from his fingers before breaking them off.”

“Oooh, aren't you in a feisty mood today,” Sans purred back. “All very good ideas.” He sat up from Papyrus's lap and grabbed a piece of food from the counter, shoving it into the Monster's mouth, just enough for the Monster's vocal cords to heal, then followed with a balled-up hand towel. “We're going to start now,” he said, tugging a knife from his belt loop. “When you're ready to talk, bang your head against the wall twice. And don't even THINK about using it as an opportunity to call out for help.” He flicked the knife up.

“And if I had any self-respect, I'd talk quickly to make my death all the quicker.”

* * *

 

The tall Crow Monster snapped orders to the Dogs to work faster, having heard from one of his scouts that his check-in point on Four Corners had shut down earlier than instructed, leaving him to believe that something wasn't right. He was packing up base and making ready to move further in closer to the Walls when his front door was literally blown off.

The Dogs yelped and scurried back as the dust cleared, and two figures emerged from the ruined door, the shorter of the two leading the way. There was a moment of silence where the Dogs and Crow just stared as the two walked in, and were revealed to be the Skeleton brothers from Snowdin.

Sans's front was splattered with blood and dust, his eyelights gleaming almost madly as he looked around, his brother following silently in an almost lazy daze. The elder brother glanced around, seeing the counterfeiting operation out on display, his grin broadening.

“Well, looks like the little shitstain wasn't lying,” he said, crossing his arms. “Good that he decided to end his suffering before we got to his head. I wouldn't have made it anymore pleasant for him.” His eyelights honed in on the Crow. “I'm guessin' your the head of this operation, considering Dogs are only good for fetching. Speaking of which...” He raised one hand, snapping his fingers. “Papyrus. Fetch.”

In a dark blur, Papyrus darted to the other end of the room, snatched a bag of counterfeit G from in front of the Crow, and turned to Sans, handing it over without a word. Sans dipped his hand in, taking out the fake G and looking it over critically, biting into one. “Oh yeah, this is fake,” he said, stuffing it into his hoodie pocket. “And all the evidence I need to finish this job.”

The Crow Monster growled, his feathers rustling in agitation. “On what authority!?” he demanded. “You have no business here, LEAST of all YOU!” He jabbed a pointed feather at Papyrus. “The Guard does their own business, and we do ours!”

Sans shrugged, his grin widening. “Yeah, see....that's where your argument goes invalid,” he said. “We're not affiliated with the Guard in any way. And in case you've forgotten, my dear brother is no longer the Captain, let alone a member of the Guard, anymore. No...we're here on HIGHER authority. And we have a request to shut you down. PERMANENTLY.”

The Crow let out a sharp squaw that sent the Dogs into action, the pack rushing Sans and Papyrus snarling and snapping, only to be thrown back and impaled by a volley of spiked bones hurled their way by Sans. The Dogs who weren't critically injured began a tentative retreat, still growling at the brothers.

Infuriated that he may as well be caught and tried for this counterfeit ring, the Crow shrieked out another command to the Dogs, his pitch high enough to MAKE them obey as they rushed Sans and Papyrus again. The Crow used this to his advantage, sweeping out his wing hard and sending razor-sharp feathers directly at Sans's skull.

The feathers never made it to Sans's skull, but were rather impaled into Papyrus's forearm-bones as the younger brother shielded Sans from the blow, not even flinching despite his ulna almost being cleaved in half from one of the feathers. His right eyelight flickered a golden-orange, his visage going as savage as the Dogs that Sans was finishing dispatching.

Sans felt a spike of magic from his brother, glancing over and seeing Papyrus's shirt sleeve almost soaked in marrow, the feathers starting to chip away from Papyrus's bones. He scowled, his eyelights blazing at the fact that someone had DARED draw marrow from his brother, but keeping his wrath in check as he reached up and grabbed the back of Papyrus's neck bones, jerking him down to his level.

At the dominant gesture, Papyrus simmered down, though his eyelight still glowed brightly with barely-restrained killing intent toward the creature that had attacked his Lord. Sans bashed a smaller Dog down with a bone in his free hand, tightening his hold on Papyrus's neck bones with the other.

Sans didn't want Papyrus's injuries to worsen; his injured left arm bones were close to shattering as it was, and it was something he needed to address later, but for NOW, he had this Monster to deal with, along with these sniveling Dogs, and now that his initial high was coming down, he needed to finish this job and get his money and get home.

He flicked his eyelights to the Crow, leaning his skull closer to Papyrus's. He pressed a soft kiss to Papyrus's skull before squeezing his neck bones tightly.

_“Game Over.”_

Papyrus's eyelights constricted into pinpricks before dilating out again, his whole body going lax. Sans petted his skull and stood up, gathering up as much magic as he could for one more blow and raised his arm, dozens of sharp bone spikes appearing above everyone opposite him, then he threw his arm down, sending the spikes down with it.

The Dogs bayed and howled in pain as they dusted, and the Crow BARELY escaped with only his wing being caught in the attack as he bolted out into the emergency exit and vanished.

Sans sighed, rubbing his skull and feeling the need for a few drinks and a nap, kicking the piles of dust around as he took note of everything, managing to find maps and papers detailing where the other counterfeit check-points where and pocketing them.

“All in all, I'd call this a success,” he said, kissing Papyrus's skull again before standing back. “Get up. We're going home now.”

Papyrus stood obediently, following his Lord out of the warehouse and paying no heed to his broken arm, having no doubt in his mind that his Lord would fix it later. He smiled when Sans commanded him to take them home, and so he did, taking a shortcut to avoid the crowd.

* * *

 

Sans stretched out, yawning as he kicked back on the couch and flipped through the TV for something to watch while Papyrus slept off the excitement of the day. He'd already sent his findings and reports to Alphys, who was sending them to Toriel and Asgore, and he needed only wait for the payment due.

It wasn't a BAD mission...just different. THRILLING, even. But Papyrus being hurt like that...using his body as a shield instead of a bone construct...that would have to stop. He made a mental note to work on that later, looking down at his phone when it buzzed with a text from Alphys.

**MISSION WAS CONSIDERED A SUCCESS. YOUR MONEY WILL BE SENT TO YOUR ACCOUNT IN AN HOUR.**

He grinned, texting back.

**good. dont bother us for a couple days.**

**WHATEVER. HAVE YOU GIVEN ANY THOUGHT TO WHAT WE DISCUSSED EARLIER?**

Sans frowned, thinking it over before remembering. And he thought, _'eh, what the hell'_.

**maybe.**

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a Christmas gift to everyone! Hope your day is spectacular!

Sans figured that it would be difficult breaking Papyrus's tendency to use his own body as a shield rather than use a construct of some sort. It was bad enough that BEFORE all of this happened, Papyrus put very little value into his own life, but Sans wanted that to STOP.

And what better way to make Papyrus listen, than to MAKE him listen.

It had taken a good few hours to set it up, but Sans was satisfied that his contraption would do the trick. He kept it hidden from Papyrus as he instructed his younger brother to stand next to a pole behind their house. “We're going to play a little game, Papyrus,” he said, bending down and picking up a handful of small beanbags he borrowed from Alphys for target practice. “Without moving from that pole, I want you to impale these before they hit the ground. Understood?”

“Yes, m'Lord,” Papyrus answered, nodding. Sans nodded back and began tossing the beanbags here and there, watching Papyrus spear them through with bone constructs, using the last one to toss directly over his head, feeling the beanbag be shot through a mere six inches from his skull.

Wonderful.

“Good boy,” Sans said, walking back over and standing before Papyrus before kicking the taller Skeleton's ankles out from under him to make him kneel. “Hands behind your back.”

Papyrus obediently put his hands behind him, remaining still as Sans walked around to weave a chain between his wrists, hearing the chain being attached to the pole. Sans gave it an experimental tug to test its give and stepped back when satisfied. “Once more,” Sans said, picking up more beanbags, tossing them around.

His brother's magic weaved without gesture, spearing them through midair with little difficulty, and once more, Sans finished up with satisfaction. He walked back over to Papyrus, taking out a small trigger remote and holding it up.

“Do you see this?” he said, waiting before Papyrus nodded before continuing, “when I press this button, rocks will be launched from one of the many springs I have placed around here. You are to destroy them as you did the beanbags. Is that understood?”

“Yes, m'Lord,” Papyrus said, his eyelight flickering sharply. Sans smiled and pressed the trigger button, a rock shooting out from somewhere in the bushes. Papyrus quickly honed in on it and shattered it with a bone construct, the pieces dropping in the snow.

“Very good,” Sans purred, petting Papyrus's skull. “Now then.” He lowered his hand, put the trigger behind his back, and began to walk backwards. Moments later, another rock was launched out, missing Sans by scarcely four inches before Papyrus managed to destroy it before it hit the ground. He kept taking steps backwards, ignoring the panicked shimmer in his younger brother's visage as he pressed the button again.

The first couple of shots WERE rocks; the next few were merely small grey bags full of snow that couldn't hurt him if they TRIED. He trusted Papyrus, but he didn't trust his own HP to hold out on the off-chance something DID happen. But Papyrus wasn't going to learn this with kid gloves, and he had a duty to train his brother out of using his body and instead using his magic

“Keep your guard up, Papyrus,” he said firmly. “Your Lord has only one HP. Your broken form is no good to me, so you had best stay vigilant with your magic!” He pressed the trigger again, feeling a bone construct whiz past his shoulder as it impaled the snow bag, pressing the trigger again before Papyrus could focus on WHAT it was he hit, and kept it up in quick succession, resuming his backwards-walk into the fray.

There were thirty snow bags he had coiled back, but Sans was scarcely into twelve before Papyrus began struggling against his bindings. Sans paused before taking off his bandanna and tying it around his eye sockets.

“Use only your magic, Papyrus,” he reminded. “Your body is MINE, and no one else is to touch it, least of all our enemies. Would you, in kind, allow your Lord's body to be marred by anything?”

Sans could almost HEAR the sharp intake of offended breath his brother drew, smiling to himself. “As you trust your Lord, Papyrus, your Lord trusts YOU,” he said. “Finish your duty.” He walked back into the fray, pressing the trigger quickly.

Around him, he felt snow bags being struck with precision, mentally counting them until he ran out, everything going quiet. He dropped the trigger and tugged down his bandanna before walking over to Papyrus, kneeling down and running his hands over Papyrus's skull, feeling the wound-up crackling of panicked magic under his hands.

“Shhhh,” he said softly, petting slowly. “Shhh, Papyrus. Your Lord is here.” He leaned his skull against Papyrus's, smiling. “You did so well, Papyrus. You're so strong and obedient, performing so perfectly for your Lord. Good boy...such a good boy...”

He continued to croon encouragement and acknowledgment to Papryus, feeling his little brother settle down into his comfortable state of subservience, hearing a soft rattle of a happy purr resonate between them.

Sans undid Papyrus's chains, gathering them up for later and hooking his finger under the ring of Papyrus's collar. “Come inside, Papyrus,” he commanded. “Such obedience deserves a reward, and your Lord is feeling charitable.” He led the way back into the house, hearing Papyrus's content rattling purr the entire way, and settled his brother on the couch. “Count to one hundred, and walk upstairs to our play room.”

He left Papyrus on the couch and walked upstairs to the play room, sliding the pieces of his outfit off and staring down at them critically. They were on their last thread and hook, definitely not able to last another training session, let alone another job. They weren't even fit to 'play' in anymore.

That alone was a sobering, depressing thought. He still remembered the first time he unveiled the handcrafted outfit to Papyrus, who looked as though he was beholding an armored god and had worshiped every inch of everything Sans had made.

It wasn't just an illusion of power he had in his outfit, where he was able to show off what he had previously been ashamed of. It had become an integral part of this new identity he crafted, that became who he really was meant to be. The fact t hat some pieces came from Papyrus's old armor only made it worse to know that it was time to let it go.

Sans finished undressing and looked at himself in his full-length mirror, now unashamed of his stunted form, even more so now that he was doing combat training. Pieces that seemed too big or too small had either thinned or bulked to make something more proportional and aesthetically-pleasing. His clavicles seemed broader, his spine had a proper s-curve, and he was pretty sure he was an inch taller, SOMEhow.

He finished fueling his own ego and fetched his favorite crop from the shelf, situating himself back on the futon in time for Papyrus to come in as instructed. He smiled, seeing Papyrus's eyelights glow brightly at the sight of him, and felt another rush of pride and validation glide over him. “Undress,” he commanded, and Papyrus obeyed without hesitation, giving Sans a titillating show to reveal Papyrus's glorious frame bit by bit until his brother was as bareboned as he was.

“On your knees,” Sans said, flexing the crop in his hands. Papyrus dropped down obediently, looking ready to start panting like a dog beast. Adorable. “Come here,” he continued, feeling his soul flutter when Papyrus crawled over on hands and knees, looking more like a predator than a heeling mutt, as he often did when Sans was unclothed. Sans waited until Papyrus was almost flush with his knees before reaching out and caressing his brother's skull.

“You did so well,” he said. “You're so obedient, so trustworthy. You didn't let one little thing touch your Lord's form.”

Papyrus's bones rattled with a guttural growl. “Nothing is worthy of touching m'Lord's precious body,” he rumbled. Sans felt his soul's fluttering turn into a pounding, reigning in his magic from forming.

“You touch this precious body,” Sans teased.

“I am unworthy of it—“ Papyrus was cut off with a crop blow to the face, his jaw grabbed and held tightly by Sans to force him to look up.

“You. Do not get to decide. What you are or are not worthy of.” Sans's phalanges ground into the jawbone, using his thumb to force between Papyrus's teeth and press back enough to trigger Papyrus's magic into his mouth. “Whose hands do I allow to touch my bones? Whose tongue do I allow to kiss me? Whose pussy do I fuck? Whose cock do I allow to fuck ME?”

He circled his thumb into Papyrus's tongue before removing it from between Papyrus's jaws, smearing the saliva on Papyrus's cheekbone before leaning back on the futon, parting his femurs.

“Your Lord does not abide by trash,” he said, raising one foot to trace over Papyrus's clavicle. “He would not allow filth to touch him anymore than he would allow filth to touch YOU. And that includes the magic and tools any piece of shit Monster would use against you.” He reached out with his crop, running it over Papyrus's maxilla crack. “Only your Lord's hands, your Lord's magic, your Lord's tools, may touch you. Nothing else is worthy of it.”

He went silent, tightening his jaw as Papyrus's eye sockets welled with tears. He caught one with the end of his crop, pulling it to his mouth and licking it, tasting nothing but joy in that tear's magic. He put down the crop and extended his arms out.

“Come to your Lord.”

Papyrus let out a shaky sigh, crawling up on the futon and settled against Sans, his purring making his bones vibrate pleasantly as Sans curled his arms around his brother's larger form and just held him.

“....Reset,” he said softly, tightening his hold as he felt his brother let out silent, shaking sobs, his thoughts taking him back to THAT day so long ago when he found his brother broken under the hands of those disgusting creatures, remembering the absolute comfort Papyrus had from his mere presence, snatched away kicking and screaming by terror and self-disgust at what had happened to him.

Sans was under no illusions that Papyrus often suffered a disassociation from the body he felt too dirty to properly utilize and inhabit, as displayed by a total disregard for it, and to an extension, his own life.

Papyrus, his precious little brother, his rock and reason for living, was so perfect and strong, and Sans couldn't contemplate seeing him in that wretched state ever again.

“Your body is your own, Papyrus, and it is mine,” Sans murmured, petting Papyrus's skull. “You're my precious jewel, worth more than the monarchy's wealth. You're perfect. You're perfect.”

He repeated that until Papyrus fell asleep, and continued to hold his brother throughout the rest of the day and through the night, wondering if it was possible for glass to protect a stone, but damn if he wasn't going to try.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“This is bullshit. This is bullshit, and I hate you.”

Alphys stood back, her arms crossed as she rolled her eye. “You're being a total infant about this,” she retorted. “And aren't you and Papyrus into that pain shit?”

“HE is the masochist! I'M the sadist! Get it right if you and Undyne ever want a crack at it.”

“Um. Ew. But right, fine. Look.” She sighed, rubbing her face. “Have I given you any reason not to trust me?”

Sans's eyelights flashed. “Do you want me to answer chronologically, or alphabetically?”

“Fuck you, I meant since we became friends.”

Sans scowled, sitting back in the chair and stared at the wall across from him. _Friends_. They really WERE friends, weren't they? Sans couldn't recall much of any point in time where he had a friend, either as a child OR an adult. Hell, he had been more than prepared to tear Alphys into pieces for making Papyrus's life hell, but come to find...

They were the same.

Like him, Alphys had something to prove in her field. She was incredibly gifted as a warrior and was coming into her own as a leader, but from some of their talks, her road up to her position had been hard-fought and tedious. Being perfectly honest, she truly thought Papyrus was just another asshole superior she had to prove herself to, and felt regret every day for realizing that he was a damaged, suicidal creature that she'd had a hand in pushing to the dust pile with her actions.

Repentance had not gone to Papyrus, but rather to Sans. Anything Sans wanted to know, she let him know. Anything Sans wanted her to do, she did. And in time they truly had formed a friendship between them, forged from battle camaraderie and a desire to not see Papyrus wronged like before again.

So, no. Alphys hadn't steered him wrong. And she WAS his friend.

He sighed, rubbing his eye sockets. “...fine,” he said. “Let's just get this over with.”

Alphys nodded, uncrossing her arms and picking up a large file from the table next to Sans. “Alright,” she replied. “And just think, it's not just for show, you can use it for whatever crap you and he get up to. More fun, right?”

“Hurry the fuck up before I decide to shove that file into your other eye.”

*     *     *

GodDAMN his mouth hurt, but this was totally worth it.

Sans stood in front of the mirror, his eyelights glimmering as he ran his phalanges over his teeth, poking lightly at the sharp points that Alphys had filed them into. She had done a fantastic job too; perfectly symmetrical and balanced and fit neatly when he put his jaws together. And good gods, did he look vicious.

She'd been right; first impressions DID change the outlook. Even more so that it looked like he could tear throats out with ease.

He flexed his jaw a little to get more comfortable with it, heading out of the bathroom to Alphys. “It's perfect,” he said, not even bothering to salt-grain it.

Alphys smirked. “So, this means I was right,” she said.

“Don't push it.”

“I don't have to push, you implied it.” She crossed her arms, grinning. “I've been filing my own teeth for years, I know how to make it work. YOU were a challenge though.” Her expression sobered slightly as she tapped her bicep with a finger nervously. “...but that's just ONE small bit that can help you out now.”

Sans frowned. “How do you mean?” he asked. Alphys jerked her head to the side and walked off, signaling for him to follow. She led the way to an unused room that somewhat functioned as an office, walking up to a crate tucked back in the corner.

“I had this commissioned when I knew you were serious about this,” she said, picking the crate up and handing it over like a gift. “And you're going to be working your tailbone dull to pay it off, but it's really going to help you out.”

She stood back as Sans put the crate down and opened it, pushing aside some cloth to reveal pieces of black metal that thrummed under his hands with magic. He flexed his hands before taking the biggest part out, showing it to be a breastplate in his size.

“Each of these pieces is heavily spelled to repel common magic, as well as absorb impact from physical attacks,” she said. “Most of the Guard armor has this sort of enchantment, but I had yours quadrupled, considering your HP status. I wasn't able to get it full-bodied because of the cost and rarity, but—“

“It's perfect,” Sans interrupted, running his hand over the front. “...it's....” He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “....it's perfect, Alphys. Thank you.”

“....are you gonna cry, because I can totally leave for five minutes.”

“Much obliged, tell anyone and I'll shove your head into the Core.”

* * *

 

If there was one word to describe how Sans felt, it would be 'invincible'.

After sneaking the armor home and spending Papyrus's TV time crafting together a new outfit, Sans made sure everything was absolutely perfect before putting it on to christen it with his original intention for it.

And he felt INVINCIBLE.

Everything was perfect and fit on him like a glove, both of which were brand-new, as well as his boots. The leather was tougher on both, and he kept sharpened finger caps in the gloves, as well as metal bits where his knuckles would be. His boots were custom-made with some of his new job money, with heels that were an inch and a half higher than his usual pair. He had also requested that the heels be sharper, wanting them to be as functional as they were self-indulgent.

After Sans tied his bandanna around his neck and fastened his favored tools to his belt, he stood back and called for Papyrus to come upstairs.

There was a brief pause before he heard the television being turned off, and then he heard the obediently punctual but unhastened gait of his brother come up the stairs, down the hall, and to the room. Papyrus's normal greeting was cut short when he saw Sans in his new armor, his eyelights glimmering like jewels as he dropped to his knees and knelt over with his head touching the floor in complete submission.

Not even a word, Sans thought, and Papyrus KNEW. Sans was his Lord, his commander, his bringer of pain and pleasure, agony and contentment. Not one word, and Papyrus knew to prostrate himself like the good pet, underling, and servant that he was.

And it was glorious.

He raised one foot and pressed it to the back of Papyrus's skull, grinding down slightly and hearing a keen of pleasure emanate from his beloved pet. “Good boy,” he purred, sliding a length of leash from his belt and stretching it between his hands. “You know who your Lord is, don't you?”

“Yes, m'Lord,” came Papyrus's muffled reply.

“You know who your commander is.”

“Yes, m'Lord.”

“And you know what your Lord and commander desires from his pet.”

A shudder under his boot. “Yes, m'Lord.”

Sans took his foot off of Papyrus's head and slid the toe under his brother's skull to life his head, grinning down at Papyrus with gleaming eyelights. “You will help me christen every inch of this armor,” he commanded, reaching down and clipping the clasp of the leash to the collar around Papyrus's neck. “You will pay tribute to your Lord and commander, pledging your mind, body, and soul to this armor, and he who wears it.” He pulled the collar tight, feeling the strain of his brother's neck bones in the tension. “And you will thank your Lord and commander for the privilege of touching every piece, and beg for more when you are finished.”

Papyrus's eyelights glowed as his golden orange tongue slithered from between his teeth, licking over them hungrily.

“Yes, m'Lord.”

* * *

 

Alphys grimaced as she attempted to ignore her predecessor heeling like a dog beast at Sans's boot as she and the elder brother sat at his place for a drink after training. “You know,” she said, “when you told me you were going to be 'breaking it in', you could have just asked for another job. That's not really what the armor is for.”

Sans smiled, reaching down with one hand and petting Papyrus's skull. “Well, what can I say?” he replied offhandedly as he sipped his drink. “Papyrus is a sucker for a man in uniform.”

“....I hate you both.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

The last thing Papyrus heard before the door closed was _'Reset'_ , and it was as though the veil of contented anesthesia was lifted, and he felt as though he was bareboned and under a limelight in one quick instant. The effect was jarring and it took everything he had to not give into his first reaction and panic, especially since Sans wasn't there to comfort him.

Papyrus took several deep breaths and forced his hands to unclench, instead busying them with locating his cigarettes. He maintained hyper-awareness as he pulled one out, forced his thumb to click on the lighter, and light it up, keeping himself here, in this moment, repeating to himself _'you are safe, nothing means you harm, you are safe, nothing means you harm'_.

And little by little, his shoulders dropped and the panic in his soul ebbed away, leaving him with only manageable anxiety and a perception of how long he had spent getting into this mindset.

He checked his watch; his Lor....Sans.....Sans left him here at nine-thirty sharp. It was now nine forty-nine. A new record.

Papyrus exhaled heavily, staring at the end of his nearly-spent cigarette and was glad he had a full packet today. He was going to need it.

He turned his head when he heard familiar footsteps approaching, not worried about it now that he was in a reasonable state of mind, and rolled his shoulders to unkink them from his earlier tightness before turning around.

Undyne surveyed him carefully, keeping a reasonable distance and her hands where he could see them, giving him a smile. “Ready to get to work?” she asked, her voice enthusiastic, but cautious. Papyrus nodded and walked over to join her, shrugging off his jacket as he did so to hang it up.

“What's the workload today?” he asked as he lit a fresh cigarette up and shoved his lighter and the rest of his pack in his back pocket for later. Undyne grabbed two tablets and held them out.

“Mettabitch and Napstafuck want upgrades,” she replied. “And of COURSE they wanted your fine touch to go with it.” She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder before reaching back to twist it back into a messy bun. “And of COURSE they have a deadline. Though personally I think a few missed shows and an on-air malfunction would do those divas some good.”

Papyrus looked over the requests on the tablets, rolling the butt of his cigarette between his teeth; Mettaton wanted something more streamlined and sharp while Napstaton wanted durability and flexibility, but both wanted to remain aesthetically-pleasing and desirable. “...sounds about right,” he muttered, putting the tablets down and sitting back on a stool, grabbing some scratch paper to begin sketching and doing calculations in the margins.

Undyne watched him for several long moments, her brow furrowing slightly as she normally felt it do when she surveyed the younger of the Skeleton brothers at work. Every day he was here took her back to where it all first started.

She'd had childhood aspirations of the Guard when she was just a little fish; almost every kid did at some point. Even adults looked up to the great Captain Gaster, the Great Hero of the War, the Slayer of 10,000 Humans, the Sword of the Throne; and the Royal Guard was a dream and an ambition to hundreds.

But Undyne was a coward at heart, and she knew it. And like most cowards, she spoke loudly, banged a stick, and prayed away confrontation.

Instead, she watched the Guard from afar, and to no one's surprise, Captain Gaster's son Papyrus entered the fray for the top with more gods-given magical talent and tactics than even his own father in some areas. It had been a bloodthirsty ambition for most to see father and son battle it out for the top spot, to see who was better, stronger, more powerful, and it had been a disappointment when Captain Gaster simply dusted away one day, the toll of war, single parenthood, and his job all piling up together, people would say.

Though some said Papyrus had taken him out somehow, and THAT was how he won the spot for Captain himself a few years down the line.

In during this time, a new scientist had entered the labs, and Undyne couldn't believe her eyes when she saw that it was another Skeleton Monster; Captain Gaster's first-born, 1 HP-handicapped, runt of a son. For Undyne, it was something to fuel her forgotten dreams, bullying and abusing the easily-cowed Skeleton, even to the point where it wasn't about wish fulfillment anymore, but rather habit and maintaining a status quo. The strong prosper, and the weak are stepped on. It was just how things went.

It was eerie when she began seeing Alphys and it turned out that their favorite bully toys turned out to be the Skeleton brothers. They shot the breeze about those two off and on, and both began to notice at the same time when things got weird.

Alphys would make an offhand comment about how disconnected Papyrus was becoming, looking like he was a thousand miles away as he went about his day. Undyne would shudder as she recanted Sans becoming almost rabid in his behavior with no one willing to go near him except for purely work-related issues. It was during that time that Undyne saw what a truly spectacular scientist Sans really was; his work with physics and the Void was absolutely phenomenal and he wasn't half bad with mechanics either. Her grudging respect turned genuine over the months, although she couldn't help but throw in a few well-meaning barbs his way now and again.

On THAT day, when she saw Sans walking in with his brother on a leash, she had been floored; not with the implications, no. It was common knowledge that the brothers were also lovers, a common arrangement with rare species such as themselves. Rather it was the sheer, resolute NERVE he showed, steady as a rock and emitting an aura of dominance that no one would dare stand up to.

It was a clear message. _I am the alpha. This is my property._

And Papyrus appeared to REVEL in it.

She had gone to her own office to shake it all off and do her own work, and was just stepping out for coffee when the medical team ran right by her with Papyrus, and even at one glance she knew it was bad. She ran after and looked through the doors, feeling a gaping hole swallow her stomach when she saw the state that Papyrus was in. Just five seconds later, her phone had forwards of pictures and videos detailing what had been done, and without another thought, she shattered her phone on the ground and shouted for someone to get Sans NOW.

The rest of that day was a blur. She just remembered Sans's desperate worry, Papyrus's screaming, Sans's RAGE...and just sitting in her camera room numb to everything until Alphys came to escort her home.

She remained in that numb haze until she had been asked to be a third judge for the trial, but she had already made up her mind from the start as to what the verdict would be. Separating the brothers? An inconceivable thought. She had seen Papyrus broken on that bed, but she WITNESSED the moment that Sans broke too. She had SEEN the flickering blue fire of his eyelights become permanent fixtures, FELT the pulse of wrathful magic emanate from his soul, and it was nothing she would wish on any Monster, ever.

The trial only cinched her decision to keep them together. She might not have been in the Royal Guard, but she always had an eye and a feel for magical aura readings, and both of the brothers were TEEMING with it. When Papyrus had dismembered a Guard and spoke to Toriel with a wild spark in his eyelight, it was like witnessing a frayed cord sparking and DARING someone to touch it.

Sans and Papyrus were each others' buffers, each others' strength and weakness, and to separate them would mean removing a protective catalyst.

After the trial, only Alphys was able to get close enough to give a blow-by-blow, and only Undyne was able to see what a toll it took on her. It was a terrible thing, watching the tough-as-nails newly-minted Captain break down with guilt at what had happened to Papyrus, seeing the state she had to see the former Captain in.

Undyne felt her own brand of guilt with the situation and her own role in it, and strove to keep out of Sans's way in every way shape and form until he approached her with an odd request.

A few days later, she was tentatively allowing Papyrus in her engineering department to tinker around while Sans watched close by. The awkwardness lasted all of two days before she found sketches of MTT and NTT's upgrades and showed them to the two mechs who demanded she get right on it. She BEGGED Sans to let Papyrus help her build them, and only after Alphys agreed to stay guard the whole time did Sans allow it.

Undyne had somewhat admired Papyrus for his role in the Guard, but she was absolutely floored at his level of skill in engineering without any formal training. Day after day, she would watch him work with laser-like focus on whatever project that was put in front of him, seamlessly translating from paper to metal. Whatever he didn't understand, he would study from the shelf of texts nearby until he did, and get right back to work.

It took weeks, but soon Papyrus began responding to Undyne's absent one-sided conversations, answering her questions she asked aloud, and after awhile of that, began sparking up conversation himself.

Undyne wasn't at all ignorant as to what a monumental occurrence that came to be. Alphys told her that Papyrus was generally stoic and silent without Sans, and for Papyrus to begin conversation with her was surprising indeed. Undyne rolled with it, hoping that indulging with the conversation would help somehow. It couldn't be healthy or productive for all of Papyrus's conversations to be JUST with Sans, she figured.

So they talked. They shared. And Undyne began finding things they had in common, least of all a love for MTT and NTT, and most of all a need to prove something while at the same time feeling overwhelmed and underqualified to do so.

* * *

 

One of the deepest talks they had was when Alphys was no longer required to stand watch since Sans installed a camera to keep an eye on things, and Papyrus was elbow-deep in a piece of Core machinery that needed repairing. His thin, elegant fingers and mageiakinesis made him the best option for such delicate work, and it was a part that needed replacing quickly.

Undyne checked over the outer coating of the piece, nodding to herself. “That should do it,” she said after making sure it would function properly. She glanced over at Papyrus, who was wiping off his forearm-bones with a cloth. “...you know, with proper training, you could've easily been a Royal Scientist.” She made a note on her data tablet and set it aside. “It sort of makes me wonder why you even bothered with the Royal Guard.”

Papyrus quietly put down the cloth, staring at his still-grimy hands. “...it...was all everyone wanted for me...” he replied quietly. “...it was all I was expected to do...what with Father being Captain of the Royal Guard.” He sat back, leaning his forearm-bones on his knees. “...I was always called lazy...wasting my talent...except no one really bothered to see if that was ALL my talent branched off to.'

He rubbed his face, spreading the grime over his skull. “...I was too afraid to do anything else,” he continued. “...too afraid that I would be...too stupid to even TRY. So...I went with the safe option. I trained, I battled, I earned my spot in the Guard...” He clenched his eye sockets shut, rubbing his face harder. “And....and I.......I HATED EVERY GODDAMN MINUTE OF IT!”

He hunched over, holding his skull in his hands. “I HATED every run I went on, every sparring match, every inspection day, EVERY PROMOTION THAT JERKED ME TO THE TOP, WHERE EVERYONE COULD SEE MY EVERY FAILURE ON A PEDESTAL!” His voice hitched, curling in on himself.

“Every single fucking DAY, I wanted to lie down and dust, just to make it all go away...so I wouldn't have to be in charge anymore...but I never stopped....because I'm nothing but a coward who took the easy way out...” He let out a shaky, mirthless laugh. “...so much for the Great Captain Papyrus...pathetic.......I'm so pathetic...”

Undyne remained silent for several long moments before sitting next to him, leaning against the cabinet with him. “...not as pathetic or cowardly as taking all your pent-up rage and bloodlust and taking it out on fallen Monsters in the biology lab,” she replied. “...I always wanted to be in the Royal Guard...but I was too cowardly to even try out. I'm STILL too cowardly to go up against someone who isn't restrained.”

She dropped her head back on the cabinet, reaching up and taking off her glasses. “...I was a shit to your brother because all I saw was someone weaker than myself I could get to. And it turns out he's ten times the scientist...ten times the Monster I am. Not just in power...but in conviction. Both of you are.” She closed her eyes, sighing. “...even to this day, I can't help but wonder what would have happened if I had just...tried. If I wasn't such a coward.”

Papyrus was silent next to her for several long minutes before he reached up and patted his hand twice over her head, then he stood up and went to finish cleaning the grime from his bones. Undyne remained where she was even after he took his jacket and left, allowing herself just a little while longer to indulge in her own weakness and wonder if she had made a mistake in divulging so much to Papyrus.

* * *

 

Down the line, she knew it hadn't been a mistake. After that day, Papyrus was much more open and relaxed around her. His small talk delved into jokes and casual banter, and one day, she was able to see his smile and hear his laughter.

It was odd, hearing the former feared Captain look so jovial and almost innocent, the complete opposite of what she had known from his time in the Guard. Then again, with his self-proclaimed hatred of his former career considering, he wouldn't have much to be happy about. That 'game' he and Sans played provided joy, but gods, at what a cost.

Now, it was a new start, a new life, and one that he was happy with. And Undyne saw that she was a part of it, a part that was giving him something positive to be in. And he was a positive part of hers. Never before had she found someone she could really trust with that confession of cowardice, something she hadn't even told Alphys yet.

She had found a friend.

A REAL one.

And if anything in the Underground ever taught her, it was that REAL friends were the rarest thing to have down here, and were made to be as protected and cherished as the spot in life and career one would kill for.

So if some fucker in the geology department just HAPPENED to be dismembered and dusted in the spare lab for bringing The Incident up within Papyrus's hearing range, then she just HAPPENED to be 'using the bathroom' when the incident occurred, and the security footage had just HAPPENED to be malfunctioning at that time.

Undyne kept her surgical saw under her coat at all times, ready and waiting to be charged with magic for when Sans couldn't get there in time if Papyrus needed a hand in dealing with anyone with cruel intentions, something she began doing after Papyrus started doing his work outside of his 'scene'. Things almost went back to square one once it was applied, but it was overcome just as quickly. It was a training in rehabilitation, and one that Undyne worked like hell to make sure went as smoothly as possible.

She wasn't an idiot. One day, something WAS going to happen when Papyrus was at his most vulnerable.

But a part of her hoped she was there to see it, just so she had a chance to overcome her own vulnerability and one day no longer call herself a coward.

“If Napstabot thinks he can have both a disk player AND an mp3 output, he's got another thing coming,” Papyrus piped up, glowering down at the requests as he gnawed on the end of his cigarette. “He's getting the mp3, and if he bitches about it, I'm downgrading to disk.”

Undyne snapped out of her musings, smirking. “What, no issues with Mettaton?” she teased. “Does Sans know the level of care and self-indulgent love you put into his legs?”

“Fuck you.”

“Shouldn't it be 'fuck Mettaton'?”  
  
“Shouldn't it be 'I found Undyne's erotic friendfiction about Alphys where they—'”

Undyne let out an indignant shriek, lobbing a wrench at him, only MILDLY irritated that he caught it mid-air. “I TOLD you to stay out of my personal stuff!”

Papyrus snorted, setting the wrench aside and snuffing out his cigarette. “Stop using your work tablet to update your smut, and I will,” he retorted. “Also, flick your wrist when you throw, you'll get more speed.”

“Don't tempt me to try it again.”

“On the contrary. I encourage it.”

Undyne huffed, turning to tidy her things—and transfer her fiction off of her work tablet—and smothered down a smile. Encouragement was nice, she thought. She'd practice later after he left for the day.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I added a picture that the wonderful xladymalice on tumblr did for this chapter! It really drives home the scene!

The jobs kept pouring in, and so did the training Sans put himself through. He worked his tailbone off in his armor until he could no longer feel its extra weight, until no movement was hindered. He worked until his armor was like a skin, his boots and gloves were broken in perfectly, and he wasn't comfortable unless he was either wearing it, or nothing at all.

Though, if he was being completely honest, he preferred it with the armor ON.

He had an inkling Papyrus felt the same way. If anything, it made his brother more comfortable with joining in with training, which pulled in a bigger boon for them both on the job. During their sparring, he had Alphys record it for future reference, and the three of them found that over a short period of time, they built something of a system in their fights.

When Alphys was on the offensive, it was impossible to get close to Sans, even if he was barreling in. Any attack Alphys threw at the smaller brother was blocked entirely by Papyrus, who never let anything escape him when in battle mode. With his back taken care of, Sans was left to send out volleys of attacks in every conceivable direction, to any possible enemy. And any enemy who might have eyes for Papyrus's back to stab only had the bad luck of having Sans hone in on them.

It happened more than once on the job. At one point, Papyrus's spine was almost severed by an assailant, and it was thanks to Sans's open shot that he was spared, although the same couldn't be said of the Monster once Sans got his hands on him.

More than once, Papyrus found himself physically wrangling his older brother away from clawing at dust piles or turning on any unfortunate soul who happened to wander into the fray. Alphys and Undyne were witness to it when they were surveying the jobs from Undyne's viewing room, seeing the normally-composed Skeleton snap when Papyrus's life was nearly in danger, or when someone got a minor hit in, or when someone flipped The Switch.

It was a frightening image, seeing Sans's eye sockets blaze with cerulean electricity as he slaughtered a Monster down, clawed his way into someone's face, and even physically attack Papyrus before coming to his senses. After the fact, it was bittersweet to see Sans both lamenting his temper and petting over Papyrus's wounds as Papyrus just held him, taking both the abuse and the comfort with equal desire.

Sans's temper became an interest to both girls, especially considering how reserved and composed he had been in the past. Alphys remarked that one didn't just develop a hostile temper like that overnight, but Undyne knew it was possible. As she often recalled, both Papyrus AND Sans had broken in some way that day, and both had irreparably changed in one way or the other.

It was easy to overlook the damage Sans took when compared to Papyrus, but Undyne was reminded of it every time she stepped into her viewing room, seeing the LOOK on Sans's face when he saw what had been done to his brother. She SAW something break in him, both physical and psychological, that no doubt left a scar on his soul.

Papyrus was not the only one to have fits of anxiety or rage; Undyne and Alphys both had to work hard to cover his ass when he went for anyone who looked at Papyrus wrong, or said just the wrong thing at the wrong time. They would worry more about it, though, if Papyrus wasn't completely receptive if not WELCOMING to those fits.

Alphys and Undyne both were witness to one of Sans's more violent fits that had Alphys separating Sans from another Monster and Papyrus pulling Sans further back and putting himself right in Sans's line of vision.

Sans threw himself on his brother and began punching and clawing, screeching like a beast until he worked out his rage. When it was over, he panted hard and stood over his brother, his fists stained with marrow as Papyrus was slumped on the ground with bleeding cuts and cracks along his skull.

Alphys's first thought was to take Sans in, even if she had to pull strings to bail him out later, but that thought was snuffed when she saw The Change.

It was a rare thing for anyone to see, when Sans went from neutral to 100 in an instant. Sans's wild expression and haywire aura simmered down like a broken horse beast, his solid blue eyelights turning hard and cold as he silently raised his hand and held it in front of Papyrus's face. Papyrus shakily took the hand in his own and began licking it clean of his own marrow, shifting to the other hand when it was presented.

When both of Sans's hands were clean, he turned on heel, snapping his fingers and walked off with Papyrus in obedient, hasty tow.

The next day, Papyrus's wounds were healed and both brothers looked like nothing ever happened, and neither Undyne or Alphys brought it up to them, at least for the longest time.

Undyne's talks with Papyrus began deepening to personal levels, something she both enjoyed and took with a grain of salt. He spoke frankly about his life with Sans, his tone reverent and soft with a definite underlying hint of arousal. And the more he spoke, he developed a more guttural, purring tone, his posture went relaxed and open, and his overall demeanor almost hedonistic.

Undyne was never more uncomfortable around Papyrus than when he was in THAT zone, recanting his Lord's prowess and power, going into excruciating detail of the things Sans would do to him. She actually witnessed him put himself back into a scene after Sans had dropped him off after giving him the safeword, his eyelights going flickered and hazy, seeing him recline back on the floor with a finger tracing up and down his sternum through his thin tank top as he recanted his love life.

All she could do was sit back on the other side of the room in flustered silence as Papyrus spoke his way into an actual hands-free orgasm, wishing she was anywhere else but there. As embarrassing and awkward as it was, she actually found it somewhat fascinating to think about.

After Papyrus drove himself back into a scene, he would lie back in silence for several long moments before almost mechanically getting up and back to work, and slowly work his way back into normal, casual conversation. The first time it happened seamlessly, Undyne couldn't wait for the shift to be over so she could talk it over with Alphys, who in turn would discuss it with Sans.

“You realize this means he's able to consciously put himself in and out of a mindset,” she told him over drinks at Muffet's. They were sitting in a booth in the back late at night after most of the place was cleared while Papyrus sat on the opposite end in the smoking section. Sans's hand clenched around his liquor bottle as he glanced over at his brother, who was watching an MTT/NTT dance special rehearsal on his data pad, just to assuage the two mechs of anything going wrong with their forms before the actual event.

“...I've seen it sometimes,” he replied before tipping the bottle back for a swig. “I noticed it first when he acknowledged my presence itself, rather than my commands. It was...thrilling. But something like this will have drawbacks.”

Alphys frowned, tapping her claws on the table. “...like in battle,” she agreed. “If he can snap himself out of it—“

“—then he'll get himself fuckin' killed,” Sans finished, rubbing his nasal bone. “...I...fuck, I WANT him to be better. I WANT him to have a will of his own again, I DO, but...I don't...” He growled as he struggled for a word. “...I don't TRUST him with his own will.....does....that make sense?”

The Captain looked over at Papyrus, mulling over the past year in her head. “...it does,” she said. “No matter his will, his state of mind is shot to shit.” She took a sip of her own drink. “If left alone, he'll either snap and kill, or lie back and do nothing all day.” She leaned back in her seat. “...according to the Surface books, the difference between feral and domesticated is whether or not the dog beast could take commands. He can have a free will, but if he doesn't have the temperament to handle it...”

“...then he'll need a leash to wrangle it in.” Sans finished off his drink, setting the bottle down hard. “...I'll encourage it...but I'm going to make CERTAIN that my commands are to be obeyed, and that the safewords are to be heeded.”

Alphys's hand twitched around the glass she was holding.  "...don't let it interfere with his progress," she said, trying to ignore the flash in the Skeleton's blue eyelights.  "The Queen is going to be looking for any reason to separate you in the upcoming weeks for your evaluation, Sans.  I can only relay so much to Asgore that'll even make sense when he explains it to her.  _I_ understand what you're trying to accomplish, but what will it look like when she hears that Papyrus is regaining a free will of his own and you want to make it heel to you like a dog beast?"

"It's none of her fuckin' business," Sans hissed.  "She doesn't know him!"

"She doesn't HAVE to know him to make a judgement call."  Alphys finished off her drink.  "She just has to see that you're dominating Papyrus's mentality."

Sans snorted, leaning back in his seat.  "Well, that IS true," he mused, looking over his sharpened glove tips.  "But not for a lack of WANTING it, mind you."

"And your fits?" Alphys pressed.  "Sans...you and I both know that you're not always in YOUR right mind either, since...IT happened.  I get it.  I UNDERSTAND it.  But there's only so much I can do to cover for you, and regardless of your standing, Toriel's not going to allow a rampaging beast to roam free in the Underground."  She pushed her glass away, standing.  "If Papyrus isn't there when you have a fit, it gets bad, and you know it.  So it's in your best interest to bend over and kiss ass just to make sure you two aren't split up."

She tossed some G onto the table.  "It's just a couple more weeks, Sans," she said.  "Don't screw it up." She grabbed her helmet and headed out, giving Papyrus a courteous nod en route.

Papyrus turned off his data tablet and walked over to Sans's booth, kneeling down on the floor and resting his head on Sans's femur. Sans quietly rested his hand on his brother's skull, mulling over Alphys's words.

“You don't need to worry.”

Sans looked down when Papyrus spoke, the sharpened tips of his gloves scraping lightly across the bone, eliciting a shiver from the taller Skeleton.

“We won't be separated, brother,” Papyrus continued, his voice containing none of the carefree worship that came from being in a scene. “You won't allow it. I won't allow it. We're going to get through this together.”

Sans let out a shaky breath, stroking Papyrus's skull softly as his fingers trailed down over the side of his brother's face to brush over the crack that marred the otherwise perfect bone, the crack that served as a constant reminder of why Sans was doing this...the perfect reminder that he needed right now.

“...you don't think I'm...stifling your healing, do you?” he asked softly. “...I want you better, Papyrus, I really do...”

Papyrus was silent for several long moments before he slowly stood up and walked over to the other side of the table, sitting himself down, his eyelights sharp and focused. He took out his pack of cigarettes, preemptively set down the 20G fine for smoking in the non-smoking section, and lit one up before taking a slow drag from it. After exhaling smoke through his teeth, he spoke again.

“...recall why we began this, brother,” he said, his voice sounding like it was both here in the moment and sifting in and out of mental focus. “I didn't want to be in charge of anything anymore. I was tired of life, tired of responsibility...and so I gave it to you.” He reached up, touching the collar around his neck bones.

“I wore this under everything I owned. I never took it off, even in the presence of the monarchy...because I knew who I belonged to. And even after what happened...” He paused, his hand shaking violently and making ash drop on the table before he was able to rein himself in, clenching his fist tightly. “....I...I st-still wear it...f...for...for y-ou...!”

His eyelights went hazy and his breathing went ragged. Sans was out of his seat in an instant and at his brother's side, pulling Papyrus's skull to his chest plate and petting lightly. “Calm down,” Sans said, his voice sliding into an authoritative tone. “Calm down. Your Lord is here. You are with your Lord, and nothing will touch you.” Sans felt his brother relax in his hold, his soul's aura simmering to the compliant, submissive pulse he'd come to know over the past year, and Sans sighed, tossing some more G onto the table before standing back.

“We're going home now,” he stated, watching Papyrus stand up on cue before turning to Muffet over at the bar. “Thanks for the drinks.” He walked out of the establishment, keeping his eyelights ahead of him and blazing blue as a cue for ANYONE in his way to MOVE.

It was only when he was safe in his home that he allowed his eyelights to dim, turning to Papyrus. “Go upstairs and shower,” he commanded. “Wear nothing to bed except your collar.” Papyrus nodded, trekking upstairs and leaving Sans down in the living room. Sans watched his brother leave, not moving until he heard the bathroom door shut and the water turn on.

And then he dropped to his knees and wept.

And sobbed.

And clawed at the floor.

And muffled his screams into his bandanna.

Everything was RED.

He felt hands touch him and he lashed out violently, clawing and punching and screaming, feeling cuts rent under his clawed glove tips, smelling blood, feeling bones crack—

His vision cleared of red, seeing Papyrus sprawled back on the stairs, his formerly-cleaned bones splattered with marrow again, his bones bruised and a crack over his clavicle. Sans stared down at his stained gloves, his hands flexing open and closed several times before he let out a sobbing laugh, somehow finding it FUNNY despite everything.

“You......you're all dirty again, Papyrus....” he gasped between giggles. “I...made you dirty again.....I made you dirty.....I......I made........I did......I......” His giggles dissolved into tears, pressing his bloody hands to his face. “I did this I did this my fault my fault my fault—“

“Reset.”

He jerked back on reflex, his mind clamping shut for a moment from any further thought at the spoken word, taking a few moments to realize that HE hadn't been the one to say it. The haze from his panic faded as he wiped the tears from his eye sockets, seeing Papyrus sitting up and staring at him at eyelight-level.

Papyrus slowly reached out and pulled his brother to him, his wounds ignored as he nuzzled Sans's skull with his own. “...it's not just my word...” he said softly. “...it's OURS.” He pressed his teeth to Sans's cheekbone before standing, carrying his smaller brother with him upstairs, settling Sans on the edge of the bed before sitting back on his heels and waiting.

After several long moments, Sans sighed, his eyelights sharpening back into lucidity as he stared down at his brother for a beat before lifting his left foot. “My armor is dirty,” he said. “Remove it.” Papyrus obeyed, taking off Sans's armor piece by piece and doing the same to the clothes underneath before being pulled into Sans's hold and kissed. Papyrus purred, curling his arms around his brother and basked in just holding one another for several long minutes.

Sans leaned back, lifting a hand and pressing it to Papyrus's sternum, using his magic to heal the cuts and bruises and making sure the clavicle was mended before scooting further onto the bed and lying back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Papyrus,” he said, keeping his eyelights on the ceiling, “do you want sex, or sleep tonight?”

Silence.

“Sleep.”

Sans nodded, closing his eye sockets. “Then we'll sleep.” He felt Papyrus crawl over and curl into his side, still smelling of marrow that clung to his healed bones, but Sans didn't care. He'd clean Papyrus tomorrow.

Tonight, they'd sleep.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

It was ridiculous to contemplate the idea of 'professional help' when someone had the type of life Sans had, and he was both happy with the fact that Papyrus gave Undyne confidence in that last meltdown of his own accord, and angry about it since Undyne relayed it to Alphys, who brought it up later that week.

But he wasn't so delusional as to think that he was 'just fine'. For fuck's sake, his little brother was suffering under his fists every time he lost his temper. He didn't CARE if Papyrus claimed to enjoy it; snapping out of his temper and seeing his brother broken just brought back memories of THAT day...

….and HE was the one who made Papyrus that way.

The only difference to THAT day and the most current one was that Papyrus was the one doing all the comforting.

And Sans couldn't stand it. Papyrus shouldn't be comforting him after that! It was pain infliction, which Papyrus claimed to crave, but it wasn't CONSENTUAL infliction. Papyrus had just BEEN there, and he had BRUTALIZED him!

After that last incident, Sans felt himself twitching whenever he went to touch Papyrus, fearing that he would hurt him again. He didn't believe his own mind that told him that Papyrus loved his touch, loved the pain, WANTED his Lord's hands on him—

_You'll break him again._

_He doesn't know better._

_You're taking advantage._

A constant tug-of-war between the two, and Sans didn't know which was the truth and which was just in his head. But it was enough for Sans to double and triple-think his every action with Papyrus.

So in retrospect, 'professional help' was looking like a must at this point.

But 'professional help' wasn't something that was readily available outside of physician needs, and Sans had no need for THAT. All he had was his brother and Alphys to talk to, and she was hardly any help save for someone to listen to him.

All he could do was get through his day hoping that his actions and decisions were in the right.

Better said than done.

* * *

 

Sans's nerves were shot as it was, and he almost rejected Alphys's invitation to the High Guard meeting, something only the highest-ranked of the Guard and its associates attended, but her persistence wore him down.

“You're in a new faction of the Guard that's getting a lot of attention and respect in the higher-ups,” Alphys told him after training. “It's even bringing up your standing with the King and Queen...considering your evaluation in a few days. Coming to this meeting is a good thing.”

Sans sighed, running his hand over his skull. “.....fine,” he said. “We'll be there.”

And so they were.

Sans spent the evening polishing his armor and scrubbing his bones clean after instructing Papyrus to be impeccable in image and manners. His brother gave him a smile that seemed both comforting and humored.

“I used to run these things, m'Lord,” he replied. “I know how they function.”

That didn't help Sans's nerves in the least. He spent most of the night wake and brooding to himself about how idiotic it was to remind Papyrus of something that he of COURSE knew about.

He managed a few hours of sleep before the meeting in the morning, heading out in his armor with Papyrus in tow. Papyrus had smartly selected his nicest pair of pants and a cashmere sweater, paired with ankle boots and, of course, his jacket. It looked nice, almost business-casual, save for the collar that was still latched around his neckbones. Sans forewent the leash for this one, not wanting to give Toriel any reason to even CONTEMPLATE taking Papyrus from him, remaining silent for the trip to the Capitol.

As he walked through the streets toward the Guard post, he began to feel twinges of nostalgia. How many times had he come here with his father, wishing to go back in those buildings that only Guardsmen were allowed into? How many years were spent wishing to be a part of this illustrious guild?

_What would Dad think of me now?_

Sans let out a soft 'tch', his expression darkening somewhat. It didn't matter what his father thought of him, or Papyrus. He didn't want to envision the disappointment on the elder's face at seeing Papyrus being reduced to his current state.

Though, Sans thought, rubbing his accomplishments even with his handicap into his father's face would be satisfying. It had been bittersweet pursuing science after his father stopped bothering with training, and he had started from SCRATCH but a year ago, and he was already a highly-paid skilled mercenary.

Sans quietly stepped through the door that led to the meeting hall, walking through with curiosity. The hall itself was a large stone tunnel lined with stained glass windows, each depicting a person or service, commissioned in their eternal honor. At the end of the hall, right before the door that led to the meeting room, was the stained glass portraiture of Captain Wingdings Gaster, standing among slain humans in calm, quiet dignity with his sword.

Sans and Papyrus paused at the same time, looking at it in silence. Despite everything, it seemed REQUIRED to pay respects to it. Captain Gaster might have been a sub-par father, but the man WAS a hero and an inspiration to the Underground.

Hearing voices making their way down the hall, Sans quickly led Papyrus into the meeting room, which was a circular stone construct that held a massive portrait of the monarchs and the royal banner. In the middle of the room was a large wooden table lined with chairs, and Alphys stood at the head of the table, per custom as the Captain.

“Oh good, you're here,” Alphys said, sitting down. “You can sit on my left side.” She paused, glancing at Papyrus. “...servants to the Guard aren't....well, they—“

“He'll stand next to me,” Sans cut in, walking over and taking his seat, finding it to be reasonably comfortable. Papyrus stood next to him silently, his eyelights hazy in ignorance to the rest of the Guard arriving, all of them giving Papyrus curious looks but none being stupid enough to comment on it.

The meetings weren't completely boring, Sans came to find. In fact, they were rather informative in terms of what was going on in the lesser-known areas of the Underground. He paid close attention to what the others were saying, listening out for pointers that could help out in tracking down his next meal ticket.

Every once and while he chanced a glance back at Papyrus, seeing that his brother hadn't moved from his spot next to him, much like the other four servants that belonged to four Guardsmen. It occurred to Sans that Papyrus had seen many servants in his time as Captain in these meetings, and knew how to behave like one.

He felt his hands clenching on the table, his nerves fraying slightly; Papyrus didn't belong like them, he didn't deserve this—

_You made him like this._

_You signed off his rights to be his own Monster._

_He's not even a slave in your game anymore._

_He's your PROPERTY._

Sans's clenched hands shook for a moment before he forced them to relax; it would do absolutely no good to lose his composure, not here. He just had to get through this, and then he could go home.

The entire affair lasted only an hour and a half with one-on-one talks and socializing after before everyone would head back to their posts. Sans sat for a moment more, reining in his distressing thoughts before finally standing up, intending on leaving.

“It's shameless for you to be here.”

Sans stiffened, scowling a Wolf Monster Guardsman close by who Sans recognized as a Rank Three Guardsman. His hands flexed by his sides as he quelled down the temptation to misuse them. “I don't see why,” he replied. “I do work for the Monarchy, same as you.”

The Guardsman scoffed, crossing his arms. “It's not your work that offends this hall,” he retorted. “It's what you flaunt just BEING here.”

Sans felt his jaw twitch. “'What I flaunt'?” he recited back. “I'm not FLAUNTING anything. And we're leaving.” He turned to leave.

“Your disgusting relationship is what I mean.”

Sans froze, his eyelights flickering. He turned his head, giving the Wolf Monster a cold stare. “What EXACTLY do you mean by that?” he bit out. “And pick your words wisely, or I will make you eat them off the ground along with your teeth.”

The Guardsman gave Papyrus a look of distaste. “Just look what you've done to your legacy,” he said, his words directed at Sans. “Captain Gaster was the finest example of what a Royal Guardsman should be like. He was proud, he was powerful, and he was honorable. And quite frankly so was Papyrus, before all this.” He shifted his glance to Sans. “I can look past the incestuous tryst, but destroying him the way you did—“

“I DID NO SUCH THING!” Sans roared, his eyelights blazing ferociously, the attention of the rest of the room turning to him. “You shut your goddamn muzzle about what you DON'T UNDERSTAND!”

“Lupis, that's enough!” Alphys snapped, stalking over. “It's none of your concern!”

“Are we STILL pretending none of that even happened!?” the Wolf Monster retorted, gesturing at the brothers sharply. “I'm sick and tired of edging around the subject! We ALL heard at that trial a year ago that it's HIS fault all of this happened! He tore his own brother's mind apart with that insane 'game'—for fuck's sake, Papyrus used to be CAPTAIN, and now he's that freak's fucking SLAVE—!”

“LUPIS, ENOUGH—“

“HOW MANY TIMES DID YOU HAVE TO BEAT HIM TO GET HIM TO CALL YOU 'LORD', YOU FREAK!?” Lupis snarled, pushing at Alphys and another Guard's attempts to rein him in. “WE'VE SEEN HOW YOU BEAT HIM, ALL OF US HAVE! YOU GIVE US ALL THAT SHIT ABOUT 'PROTECTING' HIM, BUT WHO THE FUCK PROTECTS HIM FROM _YOU—_ “

He was cut off when Papyrus crossed the space between them in three strides and drove his fist into the Wolf's face, sending him flying back on the floor. The room went dead silent as Papyrus lowered his fist, glowering down at the Guard, his right eyelight sparking violently.

The room shuddered with barely-restrained killing intent from both of the Skeletons before Papyrus turned from the Wolf and walked over to Sans, reaching into his pocket and taking out his leash. He clipped it to his collar, then took a knee on the floor, offering the end of it up to Sans, whose wild aura slowly compressed into a tightly-wrung coil of control as he took the offered leash.

“...thank you for having me, Captain Alphys,” Sans said. “We're leaving now.” He turned to Papyrus, petting softly over his skull and allowed Papyrus to stand before leading the way out of the room.

* * *

 

Papyrus laid back and allowed the crushing, agonizing hands of his Lord strike blow after blow onto his frame, having lost count of the hits and not caring a bit. Any other time, he would moan with ecstasy and beg his Lord for more, but there was no pleasure in this.

His Lord was hurting.

His Lord was crying.

His Lord was screaming.

Every time his Lord raised his hands to claw at his own bones, Papyrus would turn the attention back to him, and feel the punishment yet again. But the punishment was not for HIM.

_“I'M SO SORRY, PAPYRUS!”_

_“I DID THIS TO YOU!”_

_“I'M A FUCKING FREAK!”_

_“I'M SO SORRY!”_

_“I DID THIS!”_

_“I DID THIS!”_

_“THIS IS ALL MY FAULT!”_

Over and over and over again, in between hysterical bursts of laughter and sobs, until he was emotionally and psychologically drained to the point of passing out onto Papyrus's rib cage. His body shook violently with leftover adrenaline, his soul pounding heavily, unable to consciously move anymore but still craving for MORE.

MORE pain.

MORE ruining.

MORE defilement.

Papyrus raised his arms and curled them around his brother, his bones rattling softly with comforting purrs until he felt Sans settle down and rest peacefully. After several long moments, he sat up and gently took off his brother's armor piece by piece before tucking him into bed, kissing Sans's skull lightly and sitting back against the headboard.

He took a few minutes to himself before reaching into his bedside drawer and taking out some medicinal candy, chewing on it and feeling his bones mend themselves of the more brutal wounds; not all the way healed, but enough to make further, natural healing mend faster. He sat up, stretching and letting dislocated bones lock back into place before standing out of bed, taking one more look at his brother before grabbing his jacket and vanishing.

* * *

 

Lupis left his post for his home, passing through the streets of the Capitol before pausing when his nose caught the scent of familiar cigarettes less then a moment before he was caught by a Blue hold to the soul and jerked into an alley.

His head hit the wall, stunning him for a moment. Before he could howl for backup, a large hand clamped around his muzzle, keeping it shut and forcing him to look at his assailant.

Papyrus let his cigarette smoke sift through his teeth as he glowered down at Lupis, his right eyelight like fire in its eye socket. Papyrus reached up with his free hand and took the cigarette out from between his teeth, exhaling a stream of smoke right into Lupis's nostrils, where he knew the sharp scent would make the Wolf Monster pained from over-stimulation of his olfactory senses.

“...you made three big mistakes today, Lupis,” Papyrus murmured, his voice deceptively calm. “First mistake...you assumed I needed RESCUING.” He clamped his hand tighter around the Wolf's muzzle, making him keen in pain.

“Second mistake....you assumed I needed someone to fight my battles FOR me.” He took a long drag of his cigarette. “And third mistake....” He leaned in closer, raising his cigarette to the Wolf's eye level.

“You insulted my Lord.”

He ground his cigarette out into the Wolf's eye, his Blue hold on Lupis's soul and hand around his muzzle keeping Lupis bound and silenced through the torture. He let the Wolf suffer for several moments before he lifted the cigarette and incinerated it with his magic and backed away, keeping his Blue hold on Lupis.

“It's a shame you've convinced yourself and others so deeply that I'm weak and defenseless,” Papyrus said before letting Lupis drop to the ground. “No one will believe you when you tell them about what REALLY happened to your eye.” He shot his foot out and pinned Lupis back against the wall by the throat, taking a fresh cigarette out and lighting it up.

“Word to the wise, Lupis,” he said, grinding his boot lightly. “Don't assume to put yourself into a game you know you can't play. You wouldn't last a day in m'Lord's glorious care...not that I would share him, anyway.” He stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets. “See you around, Lupis. I hope you're not as stupid as you are self-righteous, or next time, I won't be there to keep m'Lord from ripping you limb from limb from your disrespectful attitude.”

Papyrus turned on heel and tugged his hood up before stepping out into the streets, quickly getting lost in the crowd as Lupis was left as a ticking time bomb of when the pain would fully set in, and how he was going to handle it all when it did.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Sans sat in a chair just outside the Throne Room, awaiting his turn with Papyrus to see the King and Queen. While his case had top priority, they were still in a lineup appointment that seemed to be taking far too long.

Although Sans had proclaimed that his and Papyrus's business was none of the Monarchy's, he was a complete nervous wreck with the waiting. Alphys had been right; with one word the King and Queen could have his brother taken away from him, despite what either had to say on the matter. It made Sans want to flee for the farthest edges of the Underground and hide away forever with Papyrus, just to be left alone, to stay TOGETHER.

He looked over at Papyrus, seeing that his brother was chain-smoking his way through the pack he'd brought with him. Papyrus's expression was neutral, but the flickering of his eyelights and the clenching of hands in his jacket pockets was a clear indicator that he was just as nerve-wracked as his brother. Sans let out a heavy sigh, tightening his jaw and steeling himself for his turn.

“The King and Queen will see you now,” came the voice of the valet from the door, bringing attention to Sans and Papyrus. The brothers stood together and made their way through the door and down the short hall to the Throne Room, silent and stoic the whole way there. At the far end of the Throne Room, surrounded on both sides by flowers and armed statues were the King and Queen, sat upon their thrones in waiting.

The doors shut behind them and despite the massive interior, Sans felt a rush of claustrophobia. He despised being anywhere with no immediate exit in sight, and only Papyrus's presence gave him any comfort as he stood before the Monarchy.

Queen Toriel looked them over, her expression unreadable as she sat up straighter. Her ruby eyes glinted coldly, ever the nonpartisan in these affairs and Sans knew no amount of begging could overturn her decision after everything.

He'd tried his best, he thought to himself as his hands flexed at his sides. He'd taken care of Papyrus to the best of his ability. Papyrus was no longer a mindless puppet, he made his own decisions and acted on his own terms...isn't that what Toriel WANTED?

Still, he had to pay formalities now, if he wanted to keep his brother with him.

Sans gave a short bow at the waist, keeping his eyelights trained on the pair before him. “...Your Highness. Your Majesty. We've come as requested.”

Asgore nodded, his expression less steely than his wife's. “Thank you,” he replied. “It has been a year and some week since you've last stood before us. We only hope that the circumstances are improved.”

Sans gave a curt nod. “They have,” he said firmly. “I'm sure Alphys has kept you informed of our progress.”

“Yes, she has,” Toriel replied, her clawtips brushing the arm of her throne lightly. “But some doubts concerning nepotism come into play with her reports.”

Sans's jaw twitched. “What?”

“It's no secret that the two of you have become fast friends over this past year,” the Queen elaborated, her tone and gaze unyielding. “I have even seen progress of your own training under her, coinciding with the work you do for the problems of the Crown...and impressive as it may be, your handicap considering, it raises...concerns, you understand, about how her friendship with you could alter her reports.”

Sans's hands clenched at his sides, his eyelights flickering. “Alphys is nothing if not frank and brutally honest,” he replied testily. “In fact, SHE has given ME advice about how to improve this shit situation! Advice that's WORKED! There should be no concern at all about her role in this!”

“Nevertheless, there is,” Toriel said, leaning back. “I will not deny that I DO see improvements on his own standing...but the most pressing matter was the RELATIONSHIP aspect of this evaluation.”

Toriel glanced between Sans and Papyrus. “I will not pretend to know exactly what it is you two had among one another. Romantic and sexual entanglements between two Monsters is no business of ours, but the fact remained, at your OWN admittance, it was YOUR fault that Papyrus was in the position he was.

“I have reviewed over this case from beginning to end, and even now I see that while his own judgement and willpower has improved...the fact that he is still subservient to you, DEPENDANT on your care, worries me.”

“He's my little brother!” Sans snapped, gnashing his teeth. “I'm SUPPOSED to take care of him! And I HAVE taken care of him!”

“With what methods?” Asgore put in, his expression troubled. “I've received many reports of brutalization—“

“It's not LIKE that, he—“

“Enjoys pain, yes,” Toriel interrupted. “But the frequency of these incidents paired with the fact that your actions are based on rage rather than the desire to please your brother speak otherwise.” She gestured lightly with her hand. “What if one day you strike him too hard? You damage his soul further than it is? You don't stop when he TELLS you to stop?”

Sans's hands shook violently, his soul pounding in his rib cage. “I...I would NEVER....!” he stammered, his eyelights flickering brightly. “.....I'm not LIKE THEM! I'M NOT LIKE THOSE PIECES OF SHIT!” He stamped his foot hard, his heels making a resounding crack in the Throne Room. “AND HOW DARE YOU EVEN IMPLY SUCH A DISGUSTING ACCUSATION!?”

“Watch your tone, Serif!” Asgore growled, his hand tightening around his trident.

“FUCK YOU!” Sans roared, his eyelights blazing in his eye sockets. “IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH A FUCKUP WITH MANAGING THE ROYAL GUARD, PAPYRUS WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SUICIDAL TO BEGIN WITH!” The blue in his eyelights sifted red, his voice hitting a hysterical pitch. “YOU'RE NOT TAKING MY BROTHER AWAY FROM ME! HE'S MINE!” His body lurched forward as though to attack the King—

—only to be caught in a perfect restraining hold by Papyrus, his arms held back with a knee pinning his legs to the floor.

The King and Queen shot to their feet, several Guards rushing in with weapons raised, but none moved an inch when bones vibrating with Blue magic shot out of the floor at odd angles, making retreat or advancement impossible. Papyrus calmly kept the hold he had on his brother until the elder Skeleton stopped struggling, and slowly loosened his hold.

Sans's form went lax, lucidity coming back into his eyelights and realization back to his thoughts, kneeling on the floor and shaking with the epiphany that he may very well have just lost his case.

_You idiot._

_You disgusting idiot._

_You lost him._

_You fucking LOST HIM._

Papyrus stood back up, quietly taking his cigarette pack out and lighting one up, taking a casual drag and in no hurry to dispell the bones around the Monarchy or the Guards. He exhaled slowly through his teeth, looking over at the King and Queen with eyelights sharp enough to cut glass.

“....I could have done that at any point in time during one of his fits,” Papyrus said quietly, his voice carrying through the room. “But you closed-minded people just don't seem to grasp the concept that I LIKE the pain.”

He took another long drag, exhaling softly.

“...I would like to reiterate myself, Queen Toriel, about my last statement a year ago. I will not allow myself to be taken from Sans. My brother. My Lord and Commander. Because...the first dust pile won't be my own...”

His eyelights glowed, the Blue bones forming spikes.

“...it will be yours.”

He finished off the cigarette, dropping the remains on the floor and grinding it out with his heel before turning his back to them and dropping to his knees before Sans. “...At your word, m”Lord...” he purred, his voice quivering with bloodlust. “At your word, I will dust them all. I will use their dust as my ash tray and lay the crowns on your head, prostrate myself over the thrones, give you my body, give you EVERYTHING—!”

_**CRACK** _

The Blue bones fizzled and disintegrated.

Papyrus's head was snapped to the side, a bruise already forming on his cheekbone from Sans's strike. The elder brother stood up, glowering down at his brother angrily. “You stupid beast!” he snarled, grabbing the front of Papyrus's collar and jerking it hard. “Did I give you the command to use your magic against the Monarchy?! NO!”

He threw Papyrus to the floor, planting his foot firmly between Papyrus's scapulae. “You're as impulsive and childish as when you were young, and if you think Father wouldn't stand for it, what the hell makes you think I will!? You will apologize to them for your embarrassing behavior!”

Papyrus growled, but lowered his head to the floor. “...I apologize to the Monarchy for my behavior,” he said. “I have dishonored myself and shamed my Lord.”

Sans reached down and grabbed the back of the collar, jerking him back up. “You sit there, and you DON'T MOVE,” he snapped before visibly collecting himself, letting out a calming breath before turning back to the King and Queen. His posture was rod-straight to make a Guardsman proud, his aura exuding confidence and dominance. “I apologize for his outburst,” he said, his voice void of any of his previous hysterics. “He sometimes forgets himself.”

There was a heavy, very uncomfortable silence in the Throne Room as the Monarchy and the Guards collected themselves and wrapped their heads around what had just happened, and what ALMOST happened. Each and every one of them had felt nothing but pure and honest killing intent that thrummed from the magic of those bones, and none of them had any doubt that Papyrus would have done it had Sans given the word.

Toriel sat back on her throne, forcing herself into composure as an example for the others in the room, and let out a silent, calming breath. “...noted,” she said evenly, glancing to the side at her trembling husband. “...we will discus this among ourselves for several minutes, and call you back in. You are dismissed.”

Sans gave her a nod, snapping his fingers and turning on heel before walking out of the Throne Room, Papyrus silently standing and following.

The room let out a collective sigh of relief when they left, and even Toriel allowed herself to slump in her throne slightly. “...so...” she said quietly, “...that is what you spoke of, Alphys.”

Alphys stepped out from her position hidden back in the corner, walking up to the thrones. “It is,” she replied evenly. “It was just easier to be SHOWN what I meant when I said that Sans was just as damaged as Papyrus.” She crossed her arms, her eye glimmering wearily. “If I may speak freely, your Majesty?”

Toriel nodded.

“Separating them would be foolish. They NEED each other, emotionally and mentally. They are able to stop the other from going to extremes by locking in to the roles they made for themselves. But taking them out completely would be even MORE foolish.” She gave Asgore a sidelong glance. “These are the sons of Captain Gaster. They embody him in all the best ways, down to his bloodline. Papyrus has his strength and tactical mind, and Sans has his ferocity and disposition. Thanks to those two, rebel forces and mafia chains in the Underground are being eradicated and order is being restored. Not to mention, they're doing that as a SIDE JOB, while they both work at the labs. They are individually doing more for the kingdom than either the entire Guard or the labs do combined.”

She sighed, straightening her back. “I will not deny that I have a friendship with Sans, but I will also not deny how dangerous he is. Quite frankly, if having him rein in control over Papyrus in order to keep his OWN mindset in control for the good of the Underground, then I consider it more than a sufficient trade-off to keep them together. I've spent time with them both, your Majesty...and I've seen them at their best AND their worst. And I truly believe that if you keep them together, we'll see much, much less of their worst.”

Toriel and Asgore shared a quick, silent glance before nodding. “Send them back in,” Toriel commanded, sitting back and waiting motionlessly until the brothers were before her again.

“...we have come to a decision.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Sans shut the door behind him, having been silent the while way home, and simply stared at the door with his back to Papyrus as he fully processed everything that had just happened.

They won.

He could keep his brother.

They wouldn't be split up.

Sans's shoulders dropped, his frame shaking softly as his emotions finally caught up with him, pressing a hand to his teeth. He wanted to cry, to scream, to run around laughing with joy at not being separated from Papyrus—

Arms curled around his shoulders, and there was a nuzzling on top of his skull that snapped him back to the present, to his home, to PAPYRUS.

And he whipped around, slapping his brother to the floor so hard his own hand stung. Residual anger flared up despite his joy as he clenched his fists tightly. “What were you THINKING!?” he hissed. “That stunt could have cost us our lives, if not our freedom for each other, Papyrus!” He paced around, his heels making sharp clicks on the floor. “It was a reckless stunt, and not at all a productive one—“

“Who said it was a stunt, Sans?”

Sans frowned, looking down at his brother who now had matching slap bruises on either cheekbone. Papyrus stared up at him with golden-orange eyelights that were sharp with lucidity, his expression completely serious. “It was no stunt, what I did. I would have done it at your command. I would have killed anyone who tried to keep us apart, just as you would have. But Sans...m'Lord...”

He shifted himself to a kneeling position, his head bowed. “...a Lord and Commander does not sully his hands with lesser opponents...” He reached out, clasping one of Sans's hands in his own. “...that is what I am for. I am yours to command, yours to use by any means you see fit. They must look at you as the one who commands respect from all...and I am the dog you keep on the chain.”

Papyrus reached into his pocket with his free hand, taking out a slim metal chain leash. He held it up, tilting his head to look Sans in the eyelights. “When they see you holding this chain...they will know that it is you who holds the power...that you hold the power for BOTH of us.”

Sans stared at the chain, lifting a hand and touching it lightly, his eyelights flickering softly. “....you threatened the Monarchy,” he stated.

“They are nothing to me. You are everything.”

“You would have caused a riot. An uprising.”

“I could destroy them all. I would put you on the throne.”

Sans took the chain in his hand, clenching it tightly. “...you're too impulsive,” he said. “So much trouble.”

“So punish me.” Papyrus lowered his head again. “I'm yours to punish.”

Sans stared down at his brother, the chain rattling in his shaking hand. “...why do you do this, Papyrus?” he asked softly, his voice trembling. “After everything that happened...that I allowed to happen to you...why do you still do this?” A tear welled in his eye socket, spilling over his cheekbone. “Hasn't it been enough? Haven't you suffered enough because of me?”

Papyrus was silent for several long moments before he looked up, giving his brother a smile. “...no,” he said, his eyelights shining. “Because when it's you...I don't suffer. I LIVE. I CRAVE. And I will never allow another Monster besides you to touch me ever again.” He bent over, pressing a kiss to Sans's boot before dragging his tongue over it.

“I love pain, m'Lord...that was true when we began, and it remains true now. The only thing that's changed...is that you hold back. And I don't want you to anymore.” He kissed Sans's boot again. “...I will never force your hand, m'Lord. If it is not what you desire, then I will be content with what you DO desire. But let me assure you now...I have never once regretted anything you've done to me.”

Sans clenched his hand tighter around the chain, silent for several moments before his foot shot out, kicking Papyrus back on the floor. He stared down at the sprawled form of his brother, his eyelights quivering with an internal tug-of-war as the chain rattled softly in his hand. “...is that what you want, Papyrus?” he hissed, drawing his arm back and snapping the chain out, catching Papyrus hard in the shoulder. “You WANT me to hurt you?”

Papyrus inhaled sharply, his own eyelights flashing. “Yes...!” he gasped, licking his teeth. “I ALWAYS have, only you—!”

Sans snapped the chain out again, striking Papyrus across the face, his eye sockets dampening. “HOW CAN YOU LIKE THIS!?” he shouted. “I'M SICK! I'M FUCKING SICK FOR HURTING YOU!”

“Then I'm sick for loving it,” Papyrus purred, his tongue slithering out to lap at the marrow that collected over his cheekbone. He squirmed on the floor, grinning. “I'm sick for loving pain. I'm sick for opening my body and soul for your claws, your fists, your teeth, and your tools, and I'm sick for doing it all willingly.” He smiled up at Sans. “Anything you wish. Any whim you have. And when my HP gets down to three, I'll end it. Those are our rules.”

Sans's breathing was slightly ragged, his eyelights glowing cerulean in the dim light of their home, his last wall of restraint visibly crumbling. He rewound the chain in his hand, almost salivating down at his brother. “....anything I want, Brother?” he growled. “Anything? Bend you to every little whim I have?”

Papyrus locked eyelights firmly. “Anything.”

Sans had a visible shudder rattle down his spine. “Then prostrate yourself before me and obey!” he hissed, snapping the chain out.

Papyrus's hand shot out, grabbing the chain and jerking it down, bringing his brother with him. He curled his free arm around Sans, his smile barely an inch from his Lord's and his eyelights shining with a flash of defiance.

“Make me.”

* * *

 

Alphys made her way to the backdoor of the Skeleton brothers' house with the final bit of paperwork they needed to fill out to have their evaluation as well as some intel on a new mission to get started on. She was glad for her part in keeping the brothers together, and from the sound of Undyne crying over the phone during a call to tell her the news, she wasn't alone in that regard.

She sighed, glad that this whole debacle was over, and hoped that Sans would be less likely to have more fits out of anxiety about it as she knocked on the door, using three quick consecutive knocks, a pause, and another two as was custom now to let Sans know it was her and her alone.

“Come in.”

Alphys walked in and quickly shut the door behind her, her greeting catching in her throat as she turned around.

Papyrus's arms hung from a chain attached to a bone impaled into the ceiling, nearly every bone on his bared body lacerated and dripping marrow. Sitting on a chair within arm's reach was Sans, who was swinging the thin chain leash in his hands to and fro, the chain itself glistening red in the dim light.

“...m'Lord.....m'Lord, please, it's only ninety-nine, you promised one-hundred...!” Papyrus whimpered, squirming in his chains. “...please, it's been so long, please...!”

“Silence,” Sans intoned, continuing to swing the chain as he looked up at Alphys. “What do you have for me?”

Alphys schooled her features into neutrality, holding out the papers. “...the last bit of paperwork to ensure all this is over,” she replied, keeping her eye pointedly away from Papyrus's form. “There's also intel on a new job that might interest you two.”

Sans took them in his free hand, glancing them over before using his magic to summon a pen to sign what he needed to. “We can deal with a job later,” he said, turning back to Papyrus. “But for now, we're enjoying ourselves here, and Papyrus needs to be punished for his insolent behavior.” Next to him, Papyrus let out a sound between a whine and a growl.

“...right,” Alphys said. “...I don't think I'll ever get used to this.”

“No one's asking you to,” Sans replied. “This isn't for you.”

Alphys nodded quietly. “...that it isn't,” she muttered, picking the papers back up and heading for the door.

“We'll get to the job next week,” Sans said behind her. “Papyrus and I need a vacation from everything. Be a dear and inform the labs of my absence.”

She nodded, opening the door and shutting it, hearing it lock with magic behind her. She shuddered, heading off for Hotland and tried to keep visuals out of her head.

* * *

 

Sans stood up after he locked the door, stepping in front of Papyrus and brushing his clawed glove tips over Papyrus's lacerated cheekbone. “We have all week, Papyrus,” he said, smiling. “I may even put off that last lashing until the day we leave back for work.”

Papyrus shuddered, leaning his skull to Sans's hand. “Please, m'Lord....one more, just one more...I've been good, I've been so good, haven't I...?” He purred, feeling Sans cup his jaw and tilt his head up, leaning into the kiss his Lord pressed against his teeth.

“You HAVE been good,” Sans purred. “And you'll have a week to prove how good you can be.” He let go of Papyrus's jaw, taking a step back and swinging his arm back, his eyelights flashing.

“One-hundred.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end, folks! Next chapter is the last one! If you're craving more, there's still the prequel I'm working on!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, Valentine's Day update!

Sans flicked the blood off of his clawed glovetips, glancing down in distaste at his sullied clothing. “I just washed these pants,” he groused, pausing before kicking out, his boot catching the head of the Monster he had caught hard. “What IS it about you people that makes laundry day a nightmare for me?”

The Monster in question, a bound and bloodied Hare, could only sit and shake with shock and pain as Sans crossed his arms. This sting operation was taking far too long, the Skeleton though as he awaited the arrival of the backup that was anticipated for this job.

He checked the time, his teeth grinding in agitation; this had better be finished before six, he had other places to go.

A loud blast from the end of the tunnel caught his attention. “About damn time,” he said, leaning against the wall and waiting as a hoard of Monsters raced down the hall toward him, led by an old nemesis.

“Sans, you disgusting louse,” the wounded Crow Monster hissed, his feathers rustling in despising of the Skeleton before him. “Isn't it enough you're already right in the Monarchy's back pockets? You have to be the attack dog of anyone else who shakes a bag of G at you?”

Sans shrugged, grinning. “At least the G they pay me is real,” he shot back. “And at least everything I want can be bought with it. How IS your wing doing?”

The Crow gave him a hiss, his feathers cresting around his neck. “Better than your spine by the time I'm done with it!” he screed back. “We're not those lowlife thugs we hired as a front, Sans! WE actually have something to lose!” The other Monsters hissed and growled assent; all of them, Sans knew, were not the average Monster lackey. More than one of them were dirty Guards and had more than just a profit to lose out of this.

“That sounds like a 'you' problem,” Sans replied, examining his gloved clawtips. “And I like G and job security more than I like any of YOU. SEVERAL of which...” He gave primarily the Guards a piercing glare. “...I KNOW had a hand in bringing back those videos of my brother.”

A couple of Monsters edged away from the Guards, knowing what Sans was referring to; a couple of weeks ago, just after Papyrus was re-granted independence from servant status from Sans, videos of The Incident resurfaced as a means to demoralize the former Captain in a gesture of cold cruelty. It was quickly quelled within hours by a team effort of Undyne and Papyrus, who scrambled the frequency and destroyed the shared files with a virus that would subsequently destroy the rest of the phone or computer that contained it.

In the end, the last shred of recorded evidence of The Incident was destroyed forever, and Papyrus would be pocketing profits from his new cellphone designs he created to replace the phones of those who inadvertently received a copy of the file. A win-win, in Sans's opinion.

Sans yawned, sitting up from the wall. “Alright, so here's what's going to happen,” he said, stretching out his arms. “You lot are going to attack me. You're all going to die. I'm going to collect my bounty and use the profits for a wonderful birthday gift for my darling brother. Your dust will be sent down the sewers, your names and lives forgotten, and that will be that. So you can all either accept your fates and make it painless, or you can deny your fates and die anyway. So what will it be?”

Naturally, he observed, they went with panicking and attempting to save their own skins as most of them collectively sent a hodgepodge volley of attacks at him.

 _'Pathetic,'_ he thought, not moving from his spot. _'And to think it took three years to take THIS mass of idiots down.'_

The resulting explosion of combined attacks shook the cavern, kicking up stone dust everywhere. The swell of victory was extremely short-lived as a glow of orange magic shone through the dust and a thrum of familiar magic rippled in the air.

The dust cleared, and the image of Papyrus standing menacingly above his brother came into view, two two Skeletons illuminated by the orange glow of Papyrus's conjured bones he had summoned to block the attacks. Papyrus was glaring at the Monsters, his right eye socket filled with an orange flame speckled with red and his teeth parted in a snarl, deep rumblings of a growl shuddering the air of the tunnel.

Sans shrugged, giving the Monsters an almost lazy grin. “Let it be known, here and now,” he said, “that I gave you idiots a choice, and you chose your own fates.” He reached up, petting Papyrus's skull lightly. “Finish the job,” he commanded, keeping his eyelights on the shaking Monsters before them. “But take your time. I'll be waiting outside.”

He ducked under Papyrus's arm and strolled down the other end of the tunnel, smiling to himself as he took in the sound of screams and evisceration behind him. When he was almost out, he whipped around and threw a conjured bone behind him, pinning the Monster he previously had bound to the wall by the chest.

“Don't think I forgot about you, Vesh,” he said, walking up and staring the Monster in the eye. “I know it was you that had that illegal saved file of Papyrus being defiled by those fuckers.” His eyelights flashed as he balled his fist and slammed it into the Monster's gut. The Monster gagged, coughing up blood, splattering some on Sans's armor. “How much did Slyrr pay you to release it?” He scowled when the Monster only wheezed in response, punching him again. “HOW MUCH!?”

Vesh hacked up blood again. “Fuh....five h-hundred G...!” he gasped. Sans grabbed the bone in the Monster's chest, twisting it hard.

“Wow. So your life is only worth five-hundred G,” he hissed. “Well guess what, Vesh? Your life is going to be EASILY double that for me.” He twisted the bone again. “And your blood money is going toward making my and Papyrus's lives wonderful. So die knowing that while your life ends...ours only gets better from here.”

Sans formed another bone in his hand vaguely shaped like a blade before whipping it out, slicing the Monster's head off and staining his bandanna before Vesh dusted into nothing.

He let out a sigh, dispelling his bones and kicking the dust pile before leaving the cavern and leaning against the wall to wait.

Several minutes later, Papyrus strolled out, covered in blood and dust and smoking a cigarette, looking satisfied. Sans smiled, walking over and tugging Papyrus down and taking the cigarette out of is brother's mouth before kissing him. “It's over, Papy.” Sans leaned his forehead against Papyrus's, his aura content. “All the copies are destroyed, and so is everyone associated with it.”

Papyrus purred, smiling. “It's a relief, Sans,” he said, his eye sockets going damp. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” Sans replied, petting Papyrus's skull before leaning back and giving Papyrus's cigarette back. “Let's go home. You need a nap, I need to send in reports, and we both need a bath.”

Papyrus nodded, and the two made their way back to Snowdin in silence, neither speaking as they came home, locked up, and headed upstairs to undress and bathe. Sans ran the bathwater and watched Papyrus get in, feeling a twinge of worry.

The resurgence of those videos didn't send Papyrus into the triggered frenzy he would have gone into three years ago, but Sans could feel the anxiety roll off of his brother in waves ever since, and knew that this wasn't just going to go away overnight. He sighed, turning to leave Papyrus to it, and was stopped by two arms circling his spine.

“....stay with me?”

Sans flexed his hands tightly before relaxing and nodding, turning around and crawling into the tub with Papyrus, resting back against his brother's rib cage. Papyrus's arms looped around him and held him quietly, the anxious fluttering of his soul slowly ebbing down into calm. Likewise, Sans felt himself relax finally against his brother, happy that The Incident was completely over and could finally be put entirely behind them.

The water became lukewarm and tinted red with their soaking until Sans drained the tub and refilled it to properly bathe himself and Papyrus until their bones were clean, grabbing some towels for them both to dry off with before heading to their room. Sans tucked Papyrus into bed, kissing his brother's skull lightly.

“You take your nap,” he said quietly. “I've got an errand to run and then we can go out later for your birthday. Okay?”

Papyrus nodded, closing his eye sockets and snuggling into the sheets, out like a light before Sans was even finished dressing. Sans made sure Papyrus's cell phone was within reaching distance and locked the door behind him as he headed off to the Capitol.

He thumbed a quick text to Alphys concerning the job and his payment, and then walked to a small shop that was out of the way and run by a pair of girls with whom he had partial business sharing in his old idea of having a sex toy industry. They were pretty gifted in making unique and imaginative toys and gadgets from things found in the garbage dump and then reselling it at a very tidy profit. He had commissioned something special from them that was going to be pretty pricey, and he knew that they took too much pride in their work to give him a discount for it.

Catty's tail swished as she saw him come in. “Back so soon?” she asked, leaning her head on her paws. “I hope that means you've got our payment, right?”

“Yes, you mangy feline,” Sans replied, taking out his money slip booklet and jotting down the amount owed before tearing the slip out and putting it on the table. “With my personal signature. You know THAT'S worth something.”

Catty picked it up and looked it over, smirking. “That it is,” she replied before turning and shouting behind her, “BRATTY, SANS IS HERE! BRING IT OUT!”

Bratty came out several moments later with a sleek black box in her hands, setting it down on the counter. “You'd better like it,” she said, putting her hands in her hips. “It was total hell finding all the gold for it. I had to give Lisle in the smelting caverns a few freebies to part with enough of it.”

“Noted,” Sans said, reaching out and opening the box.

Nestled inside the velvet interior was a black genuine leather collar with real gold spikes, encircled by an accompanying leash. At the handler's end of the leash was a fine **S** emblazoned in gold.

Sans ran his fingertips over the collar and leash, his smile twitching softly. “...it's perfect,” he said, pausing before reaching into his pocket and putting down a handful of G. “It deserves a tip.”

Catty beamed, her eyes sparkling. “Ooooh, the pleasure is all OURS, Sans!” she purred, scooping the G up.

“Pleasure IS our business,” Bratty said, giggling.

Sans closed the case. “As it should be,” he said. “Have it sent to the penthouse suite in the MTT/NTT Resort.”

“Oh wow, going all out tonight,” Bratty said, smirking. “Anything else you need sent up there?”

Sans's eyelights glinted deviously as he turned and looked at the new products on display, running his hand along a soft-metal chain on the wall before grabbing it and tugging it tight between his hands.

“...I can think of a few.”

 

* * *

 

 

And with that, it's done!  I'd like to thank EVERYONE who contributed to my fics with art!

[xladymalice](http://xladymalice.tumblr.com/) gave me this beauty that I contributed to Chapter 7  [LIEK OMG I LOVE IT](http://xladymalice.tumblr.com/post/155721466084/everything-was-red-i-wanted-to-draw-something)

[evilbeetle](http://evilbeetle.tumblr.com/) performed a song to match her artwork [I'M FEKKING CRYING](http://evilbeetle.tumblr.com/post/148772002781/i-know-this-kind-of-content-is-a-little)

[bluetrashsins](http://bluetrashsins.tumblr.com/) drew out the most heartwrenching scene from Flipping the Script in [THIS COMIC WHY DOES IT HURT](http://bluetrashsins.tumblr.com/post/148805813352/angst-angst-angst-evilbeetle)

And thank you to everyone else who did any artwork inspired by my fics!  Lemme know and I'll credit you and appreciate it forever!  ;u;

 

 


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